The Inheritance
by TerrifyingTermite
Summary: A rewrite of the fourth book in the Inheritance Cycle. Dragons! Danger! Eragon being stupid, like normal! I really don't like summaries.
1. Chapter One

**Sooo, here it is! Mary Sues and Gary Stues galore! A twisted take on the fourth book of the Inheritance Cycle, duly named after its inspiration!  
**

***ahem*  
**

**However, I did not read Inheritance until the completion of this story. (well, pretty much complete. I didn't make my final edit until after I spent six hours reading the book. Anyway.) I didn't spend too much time on it; I had several ideas that I'd always wanted to write about and therefore I put it into a story. It's basically rubbish, aside from a few parts that make me happy. So don't bother really criticising; because I don't particularly care about this or feel the need to make it any better. It is what it is, and here it is for your simple enjoyment. Pathetic and cheesy as it is.  
**

**Per usual, I do not own anything but my own OC and storyline. Carry on.  
**

* * *

Eragon leaped away from Baldor's guarded blade, laughing. "Faster! Faster!" He yelled as he quickly evaded another blow and quickly returned a flurry of hits. "Move your feet!"

Baldor growled, trying to maintain a tense face. "I am! You just move yours faster!"

Saphira bugled from behind them, trying to add authenticity to the fight.

Eragon stumbled, losing control to his laughter, and didn't see Baldor swing another time. Then it hit him.

And all he saw was black.

Eragon heard someone calling his name repeatedly. His mind was disoriented. He'd been sparring with Baldor, but he didn't remember anything after that. Yet here he was in his tent with a headache... a major one at that. What had he done now? _Saphira?_

He could hear her chuckling. _You lost focus and Baldor hit you. And I must say, he can hit hard._

Eragon winced and rubbed his head. _Yes, Saphira, I am aware of that._

With a groan, he blocked out her laughter and tried to focus on someone else calling his name. "Come in!"

A rather flustered looking guard came bursting in. "My Lord! Lady Nasuada was just informed of your accident. No one knew where your dragon had taken you-" here Saphira growled, but the guard only swallowed and rushed on. "-or how you were doing. When you were found, your presence was to be requested."

"Of course." Eragon continued massaging his head. "I'll be right there."

The man bowed out of the tent.

Eragon stumbled out of his tent, muttering a healing spell. As his head cleared, he shook it carefully and then straightened. "Right then." _Saphira?_

_Right here._ She landed nearly in synch with her words, and offered her leg. She snorted as he clambered up. _That was quite a hit you took._

_Yes... He's getting better each day. Albriech is more focused on his father's smithy, but Baldor will make an excellent swordsman as long as he continues to apply himself._

Their conversation was short-lived as Saphira landed beside Nasuada's tent. Eragon leaped off her and bowed to the Night Hawks before sweeping aside the curtain. He marched to Nasuada's chair. "My Lady," he murmured, bowing again. "You asked for me?"

He stopped mid-step when his eyes landed on another woman who was leaning nonchalantly on Nasuada's chair. She was dressed like an elf, but her choice of weaponry contradicted that appearance. A black cloak draped down behind her, covering the blade of a dagger that was sheathed on her back. A sword hung from her belt and a quiver from her shoulders... with two more knives attached underneath it.

Eragon glanced down at her feet again when the girl shifted her stance and thought he caught glimpse of another blade shoved down her boot before she crossed her other leg over it. He looked up at her face when she smirked at him, her smoky grey eyes glittering. Her dark, long hair was tied back away from her angular face, but Eragon glanced away from her stare quickly to her hands. They were folded tightly, tense.

_She's unnerving, eh?_ Saphira chortled silently, taking in the girl's face through Eragon's eyes. _But rather pretty._

_Mhmm... Unnerving, I mean. I can't reach her mind. It's as if it were wrapped beneath Brisingr's blade. I wonder what she's carrying?_

Eragon gasped as a fire suddenly alighted on his mind. He clapped his hands to his ears to block out the sudden intensity of pain, before it receded with a mocking, _Well met, Argetlam_ echoing while the sensation faded.

Nasuada slapped the woman's shoulder, and the anguish of his mind vanished as the "fire" extinguished completely. She smiled apologetically at Eragon before pinning a glare on the other. Clearing her throat, she stood up and held out a hand to Eragon.

After he kissed it, she introduced the woman. "Eragon, this is Raylena."

Her voice trembled. Eragon looked up in shock to see tears fill Nasuada's eyes. "She's a dear friend of mine, and until today I thought her dead many years past."

Raylena flashed a bright smile at Eragon, her eyes laughing. "Well met, Argetlam," she repeated, out loud this time, inclining her head.

She held out her hand to shake his, and as she did Eragon noticed the worn leather hand guards she wore. They extended from the base of her wrists to the first joint on her fingers. "You fight much?" He asked carefully.

"Don't we all?" Raylena pulled her hand away before he could grasp it and crossed her arms, eyeing him.

Saphira tensed suddenly. _Eragon... Bring her out to meet me._

_Is something wrong?_

_Just do it._

Eragon bowed to the two women. "If you don't mind, M'Lady, Saphira would like to meet your friend.

Nasuada smiled and nodded, so Eragon held an arm out. "After you."

Raylena swept out of the tent, ignoring the Nighthawks, before freezing and staring at the large dragon. Saphira lowered her head down to the woman's eye level. They stood staring at each other for nearly a full minute, unmoving. Eragon tried to listen to Saphira's thoughts, but his dragon was keeping their conversation private. It irritated him, but she only growled mentally when he pushed for information.

As the breeze filtered through the camp, it pressed Raylena's cloak to her back. Eragon focused on it, frowning as a small, lumpy shape began to take shape before the wind receded. What could that be? One thing after another. Who was she, aside from someone who knew Nasuada?

She spun around on her heel, glaring at him. He met her gaze, finding the once-grey a now swirling tempest of fury, opposite of what they had been seconds before. "Weren't you ever taught manners?" _Another time, Saphira._

_Of course, _the dragon inclined her head.

Eragon raised his eyebrows at the conversation that finally reached him. He had to jump back, however, as Raylena brushed past him to reenter the tent. _What put a bee in her bonnet? Rather quickly, I might add._

To his surprise, Saphira reared her head up and refused to meet his gaze. _Saphira?_

_Ask her._

Her pointed rebuttal stung, and he bit back a similar response. _Saphira... What did she say to you?_

_Ask her._

* * *

**Oooo, how undramatic. It gets better. (at least... I think it does. But perhaps I'm simply biased.)  
**


	2. Chapter Two

**So I realized I only have about a week during which I can upload regularly before my dear lap top and I will be separated for a while. *tear* And I'm bored. This was shorter, anyway.**

* * *

Eragon kept an eye out for this Raylena whenever he wandered around camp. Occasionally, in the morning, she pop up out of nowhere and scold him on his form during one of the Ringmar and then just fade away again. How did she even know what he was doing, and in such detail? And how could she sneak up on him like that?No one was able to sneak up on him like that. At least, not anymore...

Saphira's chuckle invaded his thoughts.

_At least she amuses _you, he grumbled to Saphira.

His dragon hummed absentmindedly, more focused on her hunt than her Rider. _She is an interesting person._

_What do you two find to talk about?_

_Girl things._

_Ah._ He frowned, not satisfied, and scuffed his boot in the dirt. Not only had he found Saphira spending more time with Raylena recently, but the Varden and King Orrin's men had not yet left Feinster. They had been camped out beyond the gates of the city for nearly two weeks now. Too long, in his opinion.

Eragon was getting restless. He wanted to move, to _fight_, even, which was unnatural for him, considering his own moral qualms. Still, a man grew tired after days and days of sitting around. There was nothing for him to do. He tried to find ways to help; he really did. But no one would let him do anything. He was too good to get his hands dirty. He was to be on his guard, prepared for anything should Murtagh make a sudden reappearance, unlikely as it was.

_Murtagh._ The name itself was bitter to him, even when unspoken. It held too much sorrow. Unfortunately, there was also compassion; it was the same compassion that had driven him to keep Sloan alive. Except now it was doubled, knowing that Murtagh was one of the three people he could truly call family. Perhaps it was a good thing, but it was also a burden. He was so burdened. It hurt having to balance everything and keep it sane.

_Because everything revolves around you, now?_

He glanced around, not sure where the thought had come from. It was familiar, so familiar... he turned around, and there she stood, as quiet as a mouse like always. And once again he hadn't heard her coming. On top of that, she could get into his mind!

_That's because you become vulnerable when you over-think things._ Saphira dived down, her sights set on a deer. _Be polite, little one._

Rising, Eragon bowed slightly. "Good morning, Raylena."

"Eragon." She stared at him, eyes unblinking. Unnervingly unblinking. What had he done this time? Her stare was too hard, and he couldn't hold it.

"I'm sorry if I offended you the last we spoke." He dropped his gaze to his boots, the apology rising unbidden. Oh well. It was the least he could do... no need for another enemy. It would be better to placate her.

To his shock, her expression softened. "Think not of it."

They stood silently then, each lost in their own thoughts. Though it could have surprised them; they were both thinking of the same thing. However, only one of them really knew about it. And that was the issue; he wished to know, but she couldn't bring herself to tell. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

It was too quiet. Eragon cleared his throat and tried to get a better look at her face. She glanced up at him through her lashes, then turned her face away. "I must be off."

Eragon watched her abrupt retreat with bemusement. But as she changed her direction slightly, his gaze immediately went to her hair. It was tied back, away from her face, leaving her ears bare.

_Unpointed._

Images and the smell of a slaughtered deer entered his mind as Saphira refocused on him. _Does it matter? It just means she finds their clothing comfortable._

_Which it is... How would she get it?._ He studied her now, the shock of her rapid change of attitude once again surprising him. She was as unbalanced as a child, it seemed. Yet in her eyes there was the mischeivous maturity of Angela. She was a puzzle, that was sure.

Raylena shivered as she sidestepped a rut in the ground. Curious. Too curious. The Rider wouldn't settle unless he knew. Everything. He would want to know everything. She couldn't tell him- not yet. Maybe not ever. Strange... it was all so strange now. So different. Nothing like normal. It had been too long... too long. She couldn't think straight.

Melancholy now, she dropped her chin and watched her boots as she walked, stretching out her mind far enough to know where to place her feet in order not to run into anything. Sad. She had been missed. Might have been used. Would have. Was needed. She was needed... just like always. That was normal. Normal? Nothing was ever normal.

Someone greeted her, but she ignored him. Where was she going? She didn't bothering answering anyone. Couldn't they leave her alone? Alone. Normal. Used to being alone... it annoyed her when people interrupted her solitude. No patience for them. None left. It had all been used... she sighed and finally raised her head, blinking and taking in her surroundings.

The edge of the camp greeted her eyes, for nothing but green grasslands extended out beyond her. So wild and untamed... free. She was, but not completely. No, not completely.

* * *

**Whoohoo. Crazy characters ftw. **


	3. Chapter Three

**Yaaaaay here we go again. This part is better, IMPO.**

**(Prideful, not humble. Hey, I did write it.)  
**

* * *

Roran paced. Women. They drove him insane sometimes. He glanced over his shoulder and attempted to see through the fabric of Horst's tent so he could know what Katrina and Elain were doing. She had chased him out after he had become too restless, and scolded him saying he could stay outside until he was ready to be calm.

Calm? He was supposed to be calm?

They had been stationed at Feinster for _two weeks._ He hadn't been sent on any other missions; what was he to do? They weren't even allowed in the city unless they were shopping for something, and even then there was a time placed for their return... understandable, considering the people of Feinster were divided on the subject of the Empire. No need to stir up more trouble; they didn't need any more soliders wounded or dead.

_Dead_. Death seemed to follow him everywhere. Ever since he had left Carvahall, death had been his constant companion. The only joy in his travels had been rescuing Katrina... and their child.

And then there was life! A precious life forming within her... and she was going to leave him right after she gave birth. He wasn't even going to see the new life promised to them grow. She was going to leave him and go someplace _safe._ Safe. Safe without him. For with him, there was danger. He realized that. Still... he wished otherwise.

Unless he could put an end to all of this. They had finally started moving, but one could never know how it would end or how long it would be. Perhaps his child would be walking by the time Galbatorix was cold in his grave. Perhaps he would be dead and wouldn't even see her walk.

"Roran?"

Katrina had poked her head out of the tent while he was thinking. "Yes?" He shifted his feet, wondering if he was going to receive another tongue-lashing.

"I think Elain is going to need some help." She was worried. The expression was clearly written across her face.

"I'll bring someone as soon as I can," he promised, before turning and swiftly striding away. There was no doubt in his mind who could possibly help Elain... as long as she didn't drive them all mad.

Angela was stirring something in a large pot when Roran entered her tent. "Greetings to you, Stronghammer!" Her cheery grin was enough to ease some of his worry. "How goes the day?"

"Not too well, I'm afraid." He glanced around the room, arching an eyebrow at all of the random items stashed everywhere and herbs dangling from the ceiling. Clearing his throat, he brought his attention back to the herbalist's sparkling gaze. "Elain, one of the women from Carvahall is having some difficulty. She was supposed to bear a child over over three weeks ago, but..."

Angela frowned. "That long, eh? Well, I think I might be able to whip up something to help that..." she started muttering to herself as she bustled about, flinging open boxes and gathering up items.

Roran closed his eyes. What rats eyes and pickled fish stomachs would do for an ill, pregnant woman, he had no idea. He sighed and crossed his arms, determined to wait. Thankfully, it wasn't too long until she skipped up to him and dumped her load into his hands.

"Carry this for me," she winked, spinning back around to collect a few more things before turning back to him, her gaze now serious. "Let's be off."

Once again, Roran was waiting outside the tent. The path he had worn into the ground earlier that day was beckoning to him, but he couldn't move. He couldn't hear much, but occasionally Elain would cry out in pain. Every time she did, he flinched. Her husband needed to know... but how could he leave them alone? What could he do?

With a groan, he slapped himself on the forehead. _Idiot._ Why had he not thought of it before? Tentatively, he focused on the thought and familiarity of his cousin and started to extend his mind. _Eragon? Eragon, can you hear me?_

Silence. He tried again, but with the same results. _Blast. Hmm... Saphira?_ There was no mistaking the depth of her mind, guarded as it was. If only she would listen to him. _Saphira!_

_Yes, yes... you needn't shout._

_Saphira, would you please tell Eragon that I'm trying to speak to him?_

_Certainly, Stronghammer._

Praise indeed from a dragon. He almost bowed but managed to catch himself.

She chuckled, the vibration tickling his insides. _You're welcome._

A new voice broke into their conversation. _Roran?_

_Eragon! You have to come at once. Angela is already here..._

_What? What's happening?_

_It's Elain. I'm at her tent. Katrina's inside helping, but I-I don't know... I can't leave. Can you find Horst for me and tell him to come? No one would dare contradict your word._

_I will. And I will bring him myself to see that he gets there as soon as possible._

_Thank you._

Eragon sealed off his mind, leaving his cousin to his own thoughts, as he hurried to clean up his lunch and fetch his saddle so they could get to the blacksmith. _I wonder what's wrong with Elain..._

_If you payed any attention to what happend around you; you would know. Especially since there's nothing else to be done._

He harrumphed as he deftly pulled himself up into the saddle, sidetracking to mentally tell Blodhgarm what he was doing. After receiving acknowledgment from the elf, whom he knew would follow shortly, he returned his attention back to his dragon. _So sorry. At least tell me now._

_Elain is overdue in her condition. I suppose Roran went to Angela considering she's the most capable-_

_I beg your pardon?_

Saphira chuckled as she leaped into the air. _She knows more than the two of us do combined... maybe in different things, but very useful things._

_Mhmm..._

_Besides, what would you know to do?_

Eragon flushed at the thought, and Saphira laughed at him again.

Horst was banging away at a sword when Saphira landed next to the makeshift smithy. He was so focused on what he was doing, not to mention deaf from ear stoppers, that he didn't notice their arrival. From what Eragon could tell, he was mending some notches, piecing it back together, or... scrapping it? He should know, what from the forging of his own sword, but it escaped him.

With a shrug, he nimbly leaped off Saphira's back, wincing as the sharp noises stung his ears. With a curse, he scrambled to put a spell together that would give him some peace. A sigh of relief soon followed after he spoke the incantation. Much better.

Eragon stepped into the shadow cast by the roof of the tent and sidled around, mindful of his surroundings, until he was standing in front of the blacksmith. Horst must have sensed his presence, for he glanced up without any suprise, smiled, and held one finger up from the tool he was holding.

Eragon nodded, then backed up to give the man some extra room. His curiosity piqued as he watched the older man manipulate the tools he was holding effortlessly, the exact shape of a sword appearing beneath his capable hands. It didn't seem as if he was in any hurry to end the process, so with a sigh, Eragon exited the tent and sat down next to Saphira.

_I don't want to hurry him, but..._ From experience, he knew how long it could take before the weapon would be finished. However, this was no elven craftsman; hopefully it wouldn't take Horst as long as it had taken Rhunon. A large grin grew on his face as he remembered the old, snarky elf. She was truly one-of-a-kind, age most likely playing a part in that. Still, she was a wonderful being; she had given him his sword after all.

Brisingr sang a pure, quiet note as he unsheathed it to once again gaze amazed at the beauty of it. He had carried it for several weeks already, but it was still... unusual. Perhaps that was due to the strange nature of the blade to burst into flames whenever he named it. Unfortunately, he had accidentally set it on fire twice already while trying to light camp fires.

Saphira chuckled. _The look on your face when those fires leaped out at you._

_It startled me! _

_Only because you forgot._

_Yes, well, you can't blame me. _It had been startling. He had been wanting to heat up some soup Katrina had sent over, but when he gave the command for a fire to start, the sword hanging at his hip had also burned. It had taken several tries before he was able to coordinate the spell so when he hushed the blaze on his blade the camp fire stayed alit.

He growled playfully when Saphira snorted out another laugh. He had to admit, it had been comical, ableit somewhat painful. And then with those soliders...

_Eragon, I think he has finished._

Saphira's gentle interuption broke him from his thoughts. The banging had stopped; Horst was stepping out of the tent wiping his forehead with a cloth.

"Eragon! How are you, lad?"

Eragon eagerly received the handshake. A common thing. Commonalities did not often follow him. Horst understood this, and had done much to make sure he did not raise Eragon above the others from Carvahall. "I'm doing fine." He half-heartedly smiled, trying to continue. "But-"

"And Saphira! Pleasure as always," Horst bowed slightly, grinning up at the large dragon. "Not to what do I owe the honor of this visit?"

"It's Elain."

The cheerful visage faded quickly. "Albriech!" Horst turned around and bellowed into the tent.

"Coming!" The muffled reply drifted out from within the confines of the tent. A few seconds later, Albriech followed it. His smile matched the one his father had just worn, but it disappeared the same way the moment he took in their faces. "What is it?"

"It's your mother. I've got to get back; you need to finish that boy's sword. You know what he ordered?"

The young man nodded.

"Good, then get it done. I'll send word later." He clapped his son on the shoulder, then turned to Eragon.

"Room enough for two," Eragon invited, gesturing to Saphira. She nodded her head.

Horst stared at the saddle for a heartbeat before determination glinted in his eyes. "How do I mount?"

* * *

**Oooo****o, drama. Sort of.**


	4. Chapter Four

**Yay. Another chapter.**

* * *

Angela moved swiftly around the room, muttering to herself and frowning at Elain. "Why did you wait so long to send for help?"

"My second son, Albriech, was two weeks late, best as I figure it."

"A week can make all the difference." The herbalist's frown deepened. "Now, if you wouldn't mind..."

With Katrina's help, the two women helped Elain from her chair and to the bed, the laid her back against the propped up pillows, clearly relieved for the comfort. Angela set to work, mixing some more items into her brew before she presented it to Elain with a flourish and tight smile.

Elain glanced at it warily. "What is it?"

"It's a labor-inducing potion. I'm sorry, Elain, but it's the only thing I can do for you now."

The other woman stared for several more seconds before she accepted the cup. "Cheers," she murmured before downing it.

Angela sat down on the seat they had just removed Elain from. "Try to relax. You've borne two sons already; this will be quite normal." She reached deep into the bag she had brought with her and pulled out some knitting, the steady clicking of needles calming.

Katrina's gaze darted between the two older women. Angela was sitting as still as could be, though the quiet front wasn't necessarily what the herbalist was feeling within. Elain looked somewhat nervous, as she had every right to be. Something was wrong. Elain knew it, and Angela knew even more. How Katrina wished one of them would tell her! Her hand went unbidden to her own rounding stomach and she shuddered.

Roran was back on his path pacing. It had been over half an hour since he had spoken with his cousin, and still his cousin was no where to be found. Angela had waved her hand at him after he escorted her to the entrance, a clear dismissal. Once again, he was left with nothing to do but wait. How his life circled to mock him.

Fortunately, that changed after a few minutes when Saphira roared. He spun around and shielded his eyes, then darted out of the way as she came barreling in for a landing, the ground shaking under her feet as she collided with it. Hopefully Angela had heard the dragon's warning and done something with the shock wave.

In a flash, Horst was scrambling down from his perch. He stumbled when his feet his the ground, but nothing would stop him until he had seen his wife. He announced his arrival with a shout of her name as he staggered into their tent.

Eragon descended with more ease than his companion had. He turned to meet Roran's eyes, but his cousin only shrugged. "I went to fetch Angela, but I was unneeded. I've been sitting out here waiting for you."

"I'm sorry... Horst was in the middle of something, and I couldn't interrupt him. There are only a few times when one can pause while forging a sword; thankfully he was already nearly finished. Albriech was going to put the last few things in place."

Roran nodded, and they fell into silence, each consumed with his own thoughts.

After several minutes, Horst walked back out of the tent and over to where the cousins were, his shoulders slumped. Without waiting for them to ask, he supplied information. "Angela apparently gave her something that would cause her body to start the process of giving birth."

"That's good, isn't it?" Roran frowned as Horst merely shook his head.

"That wit-er, herbalist. Angela. There's something in her eyes." He sighed, staring down at his feet. "Something's wrong. I can tell."

Eragon glanced over at Saphira. After a short period of silence, he turned back to the two men. "Would you like me to stay with you? That way if Angela needs help I'll be here, even if it is only supplying some spells."

Horst smiled tightly. "I would be most thankful if you would."

Two hours had passed, and during that time everything had remained quiet. The three men had alternated between friendly chat, silence, or encouragement. Saphira had remained still the majority of the time, most of which she spent in a nap-like state, though occasionally she roused herself enough to add a comment to the conversation.

A scream sent them all bolting to their feet. Eragon had already drawn Brisingr before he realized it had come from within the tent. He relaxed, resheathed the sword, then sat back down, Roran soon following. _And so it begins._

Horst, however, remained on his feet, staring anxiously at the tent. Another sharp cry reached their ears, and he flinched with it.

Then time seemed to slow as a pattern was soon set. Every few minutes, Elain's cries could be heard. Horst continued to visibly react, though he managed to keep himself rooted in place. Then it would be quiet- eerily quiet. Not a sound could be heard.

This happened for another hour before a neighbor walked up to inquire as to the commotion. Horst didn't answer, so Eragon explained briefly: Elain was having her baby.

The news quickly spread around the vicinity. Several of the old residents of Carvahall dropped by to give Horst some encouragement, all of which he received with a nod and a few strained nerves. Eventually the visits became sporadic until finally they stopped. Elain's cries had started coming closer together, and this was surely a factor. What could one say to a man who was listening to his wife scream?

Baldor and Albriech had finally arrived. They were both as disheveled as their father, and as worried. The trio was now sitting off to the side, murmuring quietly amongst themselves.

Roran couldn't take it any longer. He jumped to his feet and started pacing again. Eragon watched him for a few minutes, then sighed. He could even tell: this was taking too long. Something had to be wrong. _Katrina?_

Her scattered thoughts were thrown into a whirl.

_Katrina, it's Eragon. I'm trying not to read your thoughts, but Horst is going crazy._

_Eragon?_

_Yes, it's me. Keep thinking in the direction you feel me and I'll be able to hear you._

_Hang on._ She promptly pushed him away, and Eragon barely held back a grin. She learned quickly. He sat for several minutes before he heard her voice calling again.

_Eragon? Are you there?_

_I'm here._

_It's the baby... Angela is worried, she-_ her thoughts grew muddled again, and Eragon resisted listening in to the conversation. _She says something is wrong. I think she knows what, but she won't tell me. But I think I know._

_And?_

_Can't tell you; don't know for sure... how's Horst?_

_Horrible._

_Try to keep him calm. The last thing we need is him barging in here._

_I won't let him in._

_Thank you. _

Her thoughts grew more disjointed as she focused her attention away from him. He severed the link and leaned back against Saphira, frowning. He could try to contact Angela... but he doubted she would respond. If she wanted him to know, she would have already told him herself. All he could do was wait to find out, same as the others.

* * *

**Dun dun duuuun...**

**Right. That was unnecessary.  
**


	5. Chapter Five

**Oooo, again. It's just sitting on my computer and I have nothing else to do, anyway. ^_^**

* * *

Raylena strolled through the camp, getting her bearings and memorizing everything. At least trying to. Her mind wandered often; she was still working on getting it fully back under her control. It was coming along. Not as fast as she'd like, but still coming. Better than nothing, right? Even the few days of quiet and calm had helped.

She flickered her gaze to a couple of soldiers. She had heard them talking before they had sen her, but once they had they'd fallen silent. Typical. That had already happened several times. No one had told her why, yet. Though she figured she knew. They didn't, but she did.

She smiled lazily at them, arching her eyebrows slightly. They both shifted awkwardly and looked away. Hmm. Interesting. Same result. Usual. Not offensive; it was rather funny in her opinion. People are often afraid of what they don't know, especially when they don't know why they're afraid, and- _Stop_. Don't get carried away. Focus.

After she had walked past and away, they began muttering again. Different tones, though. Much more nervous. Wary, even. She was tempted to turn around and make another face, but decided against it. No use alienating everyone. That wouldn't do. Her friend wouldn't like that... and she probably wouldn't either. Time. That's all they needed: time to get used to her.

Time always helped. Frowning, she stopped walking, eyeing the land in front of her. She had walked right out to the edge of the camp without even realizing it. Again. Annoying. She had thought she was looping around, slowly making her way to the very middle. Apparently she had misjudged her direction a bit. Again. Very annoying. Ah well... what had she been thinking? Time. Time helping. Time would help. That was it, thinking of time.

Time, time. Everyone could use some extra time. She would like some. Too bad it couldn't be pawned somewhere...

Why was she thinking of this? Too many things to think about. That's right; more time to think. Thinking in circles was time consuming. Straight lines! She needed straight lines. Linear thoughts. _Focus!_ Center of the camp.

Wait, center of what? Wait- there was a thought. A passing one, though not her own. Something about... a baby? Babies were good. So full of life and calm happiness. Having a baby to cradle would be lovely. Smiling, she shook her head while started to walk in the direction that the thought had come from. The last thing to do was walk up to someone and demand to hold their child. Not a way to earn one's welcome.

Hm. A familiar mind. Several. Very familiar... like something from a dream. Frowning, she sped up her pace. Too many familiar minds. She didn't even know that many people, did she? Well, she would find out once she found the place she was seeking. Her frown deepened as she came face-to-face with the burlap covering of a tent. _Go around, stupid._

More people were thinking about what she had first heard; she must be getting close. Eavesdropping? Yes, she was eavesdropping. Only on what she wanted to find, though. Nothing wrong with getting directions. _Whoops._ With a wince, she located another mind. There was, of course, the unfortunate few times one found something one would rather not know.

_Moving on._

The sun was starting to set before she worked her way through the maze. Too many thoughts all thinking from different directions, leading her all around. Frustrating. Luckily she restrained herself from skewering anyone. Again, not a way to start anew.

Shielding her eyes, she squinted into the hazy light. _Eragon!_ And Saphira. So they had been familiar. She was right; she did know some people. But there were still more... yet she couldn't place them. Not yet. Soon, once she saw them. In the tent? Most likely. Something wrong with the baby?

"Eragon!"

Eragon looked up when he heard his name called. Behind him, Saphira shifted, and her thoughts suddenly grew a bit more distant. He sighed, then stood to his feet, careful not to disturb his sleeping cousin. "Good evening, Raylena."

She stopped before him, a peculiar look on her face as she gazed past him at Saphira. She seemed to give herself a shake before her eyes met his. "Eragon. What's wrong with the baby?"

His eyes popped wide open, and his hand flew to her mouth, though he ignored her flinch. "Shh!" Thankfully Horst and his sons had not heard. _Of course they didn't! They can't hear that well._ He eyed Raylena, wondering how she had known. He had guessed as much; they all had, but she didn't even know Elain. "How did you know? Be quiet, _please_," he insisted when she frowned.

"Very easily. People think rather loudly around here. Haven't you noticed?" She crossed her arms, her unnerving stare still flickering between him and his dragon.

"No, not really... I guess I've gotten used to blocking them out." Her eyes were boring into his now, almost as if she blamed him for this mess. Strange woman.

"Do you think they might need another pair of hands?" She lifted hers, palms facing up.

Eragon glanced down, then back up at her face. "I think they've got everything under con-"

"Eragon." Horst had risen from his place and walked over. "Eragon, I don't believe we've met."

Raylena shifted her eyes to the new man. Any distraction would be welcome for him. His mind was muddled with worry and fright. She smiled warmly, trying to give some to him. Hurting. He was hurting. His wife, then... the others looked too much like him and were younger.

Eragon cleared his throat, then gestured at her. "Horst, this is Raylena... she joined us several weeks ago."

"Aah..." the older man rubbed his chin. "I do believe I heard about you, miss."

Her smile grew. "Nothing good, I dare hope."

Horst laughed. It was quiet, and tired, but at least he laughed. If she did nothing else, at least he laughed. She wanted to laugh with him. It had been so long since she'd laughed, but oh! He was speaking again. She must concentrate.

"-worry about it. I didn't think I ever would have the pleasure of meeting you, though."

"The pleasure is all mine." Her eyes went to the younger ones. They were both looking at her, and unlike the others their gazes held.

Horst noticed where she was looking and motioned for the boys to join them. When they walked up, he pointed at them correspondingly. "My sons. Raylena, this is Albriech and Baldor. Albriech helps me with the metal work, and Baldor is training as a soldier."

They both nodded, still staring at her, with nary a word between them. Alright. Enough was enough. Her smile faltered. What was she, a freak sideshow? Acknowledgment was good; this was not. They could at least say something.

"Now boys, don't be rude." Horst patted her on the shoulder, not noticing her shoulders tighten from the contact. "This young lady is the one we heard so much about that week past."

Albriech smiled. "It's good to finally meet you."

Baldor looked on.

She returned the smile, ignored the other, then turned back to Horst and spoke before any more pleasantries could be said. "To be honest, I heard a passing thought about what was happening here, and I came to help."

The air seemed to thicken and grow black. Horst's shoulders drooped, and he raised a hand to rub his face. "I don't know there's much you could do. The herbalist, Angela is here helping, but unless you're trained I don't know."

_Angela!_ That was it. Now she remembered. The lilting, playful sensation she got whenever Angela's mind was there. And Solembum. The werecat must be close by; there was no one else she knew. Wait! Concentrate. He was staring. She smiled suddenly. "Actually, I am. Angela can account." Without waiting for a reply, she stepped around them and hurried into the tent.

The light was instantly darker, disclosing the nature of the air, even. She couldn't see. Blinking, she tried to focus and ended up finding herself face-to-face with an irritated flame-colored hair young woman.

"Excuse me, you have no right to come barging in here!"

Raylena ignored her, and looked past at the older woman rinsing out a cloth. "Hello, Angela."

Angela glanced over, then again for a longer look. Her face twitched, but she turned back to her task as the pregnant woman held back a scream with a groan, leather held tightly between her teeth. "Raylena. So good to see you, especially at a time like this. It's alright, Katrina; I know her."

Katrina. The one with red hair was Katrina. She forced a smile, appearing polite, though her eyes still held a wary look.

"Well don't just stand there! Come here and do something."

Raylena stepped quickly around Katrina and focused on the woman. Something's wrong with the baby.

_I know. I can't hear his thoughts. It's difficult with an unborn, though I know you're more sensitive to the little ones, so-_

_There are no thoughts. Life. Such a precious thing, especially in one so small... yet denied to him._

Their faces were calm. Elain, as Raylena gathered from Katrina, had been overdue. And no wonder. The little boy had died before birth. Elain's body had rebelled against that. Strange. Strange things happened often, though. More often than anyone would like. Unfortunate, especially in such an innocent-

_Raylena. I need you to concentrate now._

_I could cast a spell... I don't want to injure her._

_You need to do something to speed the process along. Can you animate the body?_

_I can try._

In a minute, Elain was screaming. This time, the pain didn't pause for rest. Neither did she.

* * *

**:'( Aw, first death of the story.**


	6. Chapter Six

**Boo. Here's some more.**

* * *

It was all Horst could do to keep from sprinting in to find out what was happening. Albriech and Baldor were both white; both of them were sitting down. Albriech was close to tears. Roran had woken up immediately, but there was nothing he could do.

"Eragon, could you...?"

The young man looked up at him, then back down. "I can ask Angela."

"_Please._" Horst wanted to stop his ears like he did in the shop. Block it all out. But he couldn't. She was sufferring; he was going to suffer with her.

Eragon touched him lightly on the shoulder. When Horst met his eyes, he shook his head. Thankfully, the man was too distraught to notice the emotion in Eragon's eyes, who was furious. At who, he wasn't sure. Nasuada? Surely she must have known.

"_She's as capable as you are, if not more." Saphira, what could she mean?_

_Obviously Raylena is a magician, just as you are._

_Did you know?_

Silence.

_Saphira, did you know?_ He sounded demanding, like a child, but he didn't care.

_Yes._

_Oh, and what else did you happen to find out, hm? Anything else important that might help me to know? What about Nasuada?_

_Nasuada knew. She's known Raylena for a very long time._

_And what else do _you_ know about her._

_Nothing._

_Saphira..._

_Honestly, Eragon._ She snorted, and dug her talons into the earth. _Nothing. When we speak it sounds like something, but then when we finish it's always nothing. Her words dance in circles and twist along the way, leaving all who hear confused yet delighted. Her mind is out of place, Eragon. Very much so.  
_

Raylena was sweating. Her ears were nearly bleeding from the piercing cries. With a muttered oath, she motioned for Angela to wait. After releasing the first spell, she quickly murmured one that would create a sound barrier. Not completely, but at least they wouldn't go deaf... might keep the sound within the four walls, as well.

_Not long now. Too late. Too late._ She inhaled deeply several times, then recited her original spell, clenching her teeth as the spell tugged at the remainder of her strength. She would not give in.

It only took a few more minutes, and then Angela was ordering Katrina around, then she turned to her. "Hot water, Raylena."

Hot. No, not cold. Focus. Hot. She was tired. _Boiling water. Stop the blood. _

Blood? Yes, there was blood. Now she could smell it. Elain had fainted. When? She couldn't remember. At least she was silent. Focus! Water. Boiling. It burned her finger.

At least another half hour passed before Angela allowed Raylena to fall into the chair. She was trembling. She couldn't stop. _Plants. Animals. _A cow? It would do. _Deyja._ Ah, sweet energy! She would pay the man back later. At least she could move...

She raised her head. How long had she been sitting? Only a few minutes. But no, for Katrina was gone. So was the stench. How long?

Angela was sitting on the end of the bed, knitting. Elain was still unconscious, though this time she was in a deep sleep. When the herbalist felt Raylena's gaze she looked up to meet it. "We managed to finish without you. You needed the rest."

"Mmm." Raylena sat up straight and stretched, her back protesting as it creaked and popped.

"It is good to see you again."

Raylena's eyes shifted, the grey clouding and turning dark as she frowned at Angela. The two women held gazes for several, long heartbeats, each trying to read the other. As usual, it never worked. Though this time, the younger one found herself unable to bear the intensity as her mind began to whirl.

A weight. Warm and heavy. On her foot. Raylena looked down to the familiar sight of a cat. _Hello._

_Hello, Raylena. You've been gone a long time._

_Sorry. _She wanted to forget. Solembum looked right through her. With a shiver, she glanced back up at her old friend and found sympathy in Angela's eyes. As all of them.

"We all thought you had died."

Died? Death would have been welcome. Now she was glad to be alive, then she had not been. She would have gladly died. "Not this time," she forced a tight smile.

Angela laughed quietly. "It's not the first, is it?"

"No, only the longest." For it had been long. So long. Too long. Too short of a time now to think about it. More time. She needed more time.

Katrina entered the tent, looking as weary as the other two women felt. "Horst wouldn't hear of Eragon using magic to make a grave. Elain's men are all digging, so it shouldn't be too long, and the ground around here is good soil."

Raylena studied the girl, her eyes drifting until they rested on her stomach. Her eyes widened slightly, and she quickly stood to her feet, ignoring her aching joints and telling them to hush. No need to put another child in danger. "Sit."

Katrina looked at her, somewhat surprised, though thankful. For the first time got a good look at the woman... the one Eragon had mentioned to Roran. Tall, dressed like an elf, with glistening brown her... though her eyes! Her eyes were grey. Not just grey, but a shadow. A looming veil that hid a great deal, just as Roran had said.

She was tired, and glad for a seat, as her feet and ankles were swollen. No need to let her imagination run away with her in speculating as to what was behind that gaze. Raylena had helped them after all. Surely the woman would turn out to be a friend. A peculiar one, if first impression served properly, but at least someone else to whom she could speak.

She glanced at the strange girl again, and found that her eyes had lightened significantly in color, and that she was once again staring at Katrina's stomach. Before she could ask how she knew, there was a voice calling, and Eragon leaned his head in.

"They're ready."

There wasn't really a ceremony. Horst and his boys were too choked up to speak. Angela had stayed in with Elain, who could not bear to move, and Roran was comforting a sobbing Katrina. Eragon glanced around, wondering if he should speak.

Raylena met his gaze, then shook her head, a word forming on her lips. _"No."_ How she knew what he was thinking... but no, he shouldn't speak. Perhaps not. _Saphira?_

The dragon merely dropped her nose to the earth. She was thinking; her mind was spinning in circles. She was trying to do something, but she couldn't command the magic. A sense of sadness emanated from her, and Eragon laid a hand on her leg.

All of a sudden, a soft song filtered through the breeze. He glanced to his left, and sure enough, Raylena was singing. Singing what, he couldn't tell. Only that she was. It wasn't the Ancient Language; it wasn't anything at all. But it was more beautiful than anything else he'd ever heard. It swept his spirit away.

Then all of a sudden, power roared from his dragon's mind. Saphira froze, then with a shudder that seemed to carry the magic with it, she exhaled. A crystallized stream of fire met the earth with a piercing light. In a heartbeat, it was over. And embedded in the earth was a flower. A beautiful, golden rose glinting against the overturned earth.

Raylena's notes drifted away, and she soon followed them, disappearing into the night. He glanced after her, the only one who saw. He would have to ask her later.

Saphira snorted and backed away, flicking her tail and eyeing her creation, while Eragon stared between it and the woman. _Saphira... what _was_ that?_ He crept forward and poked the glittering flower with his foot, then shifted the dirt. It remained.

_That was a very old tongue, Eragon._

_Do you know what it is?_

She stretched her neck up to the sky and let out a blast of flame, lightning the darkness with it's power. _We should leave them. Tell Roran to get Katrina to their tent; she's very tired._

He did as he was told. Horst met his eyes briefly and nodded. Eragon returned the gesture, and then he set about collecting the saddle, holding it with magic and not bothering to use it. After Saphira lifted them into the sky, his curiosity overcame him. He leaned forward, clutching the spike in front of him to keep himself from falling.

_Saphira?_

_No, little one, I'll not tell you. I never expected to hear it; especially not from her._

_What does that say about her, then?_ He pictured her face. Her impossible eyes. Beautifully deep and bewitching. He would have to be care so as not to fall under the spell they held.

_It means she is one not to be underestimated._

_Do you say that in a good or a bad way?_

_Hopefully good._

_Her mind, Saphira. I've tried to reach it, but it's impassable. I'm not sure how she does it; it's like a tangled web of thorns._

_I know. Even when speaking with her I've seen it. Experienced it, if you will._

He sighed. She was a mystery, that was certain. At the moment, it didn't look likely she would be solved easily. No matter... there was time, and he would be sure to speak with her again. He gathered she found him as much an anomaly as he did her.

* * *

**Secrets. Ooooo. How quaintly inspirational. Er, irritating.  
**


	7. Chapter Seven

**I'm falling asleep, but I have nothing better to do atm.  
**

**Oooo, slang speak. Anyway.  
**

* * *

Two full days passed before Eragon saw her again. It was early morning of the third day, and he couldn't sleep. How he wished he were tucked away in Ellesmere! There it was safe. There Oromis and Glaedr were safe. All was green and good and alive, singing with joy.

Not so anymore. Eragon rolled over, and stared at the slight lump under his mattress in the corner. After wriggling around to a better position, he reached under it and pulled out the sack that Oromis had given him. He stared at the fabric for a full minute before he let it fall away, revealing Glaedr's heart of hearts.

The dragon had been silent. Completely silent. There had been nothing from him, not since the day Oromis had died. Eragon had tried once to touch his consciousness, but it was behind a barrier that made Raylena's seem puny, and the sorrow and pain that came from it hurt to even brush against. He had nearly been incapacitated the first time he had tried without being aware to protect himself.

The gold flared slightly. Never had this happened before. It was strange, but at least it was something. Puzzled, Eragon hovered his hands over the stone, feeling the sudden warmth emanate from it. _What is it, Master?_

Instead of the cold silence he expected, there was a glimpse of... something. He couldn't place it, but there it was. Teasing him until he figured out what it was. What could it have been?

Saphira growled, loud enough for him to hear. _He must have been listening to you, Eragon. What were you just thinking about?_

_Um... just how silent he's been._ Eragon's brow furrowed. That was it. Just the mighty, maimed master of the skies. How he wished he could have seen them in battle in their youth! They would have been a mighty pair. Even more so in their youth.

Immediately, the stone went still.

Eragon regretted his thoughts. Saphira had to be right; Glaedr was somehow listening to him. "_I'm sorry,_" he thought as he whispered it. He waited, breathless, until again, a flicker of warmth, though smaller than before, grew against his hands. At least it was something. He whispered his sorrow again in the Ancient Language, and the light grew brighter. Barely, but it was there. Then, without warning, it vanished.

He was done communicating to Eragon. _If one can call it 'communicating'. _With a sigh, Eragon carefully pulled the fabric up around the shell and tucked it back into its hiding place, replacing the wards that displaced the stone from reality to all but himself. He stared silently.

_I wish there was more we could do for him..._

_As do I. Unfortunately, there isn't anything. I suppose it was nothing, after all._

Raylena stretched out on her back, hands folded on her stomach, and let the tears slowly drip. She was weary. So much death... not even the chance of one life? Well, there was Katrina. She was healthy. Very healthy. So was he. The boy. She was just tired. Rest would fix that; she wasn't drained of passion. She had something to live for. A child!

Too many years. Too many years since she herself had been passionate about anything, or loved anything. A child would have been perfect. For her? Hah! She was selfish. So selfish. To think of what that family must be feeling! And here she was. Complaining, as usual. It was beneath her... yes, far below.

She closed her eyes. A purring broke the silence in her tent, followed by Solembum leaping gracefully up onto her cot. She moved her hands and let him settle on her stomach, ignoring him for the moment. Yes, she was selfish. A bad habit taken up during... she shuddered and shifted, wincing as one of the werecat's claws pricked her flesh.

_Sorry,_ he purred and rubbed his head against her. _I didn't feel like taking a tumble._

_No matter. _"Weis heil," she breathed. Perhaps a waste of energy, but it was nothing to her. The fact that she had energy to waste was a good enough reason.

_What happened to you, my dear?_

Everything slowed. Her heart started skipping. Calm, calm down. Just a question. Simple question. Nothing wrong with wondering. He's allowed to wonder. Though why he doesn't know. He's a werecat. He should know.

_Keep breathing, Raylena._

She exhaled and sucked in air, frowning at him.

His chuckle echoed in her mind. _Don't avoid the question._

_Can't answer._

_You have to at some point. You can't push it aside._

_Not now._

_Perhaps not._ He stood up and stepped off her body, creeping down the bedding towards her face. He cuddled up next to her cheek, his nose brushing her jaw. _Go to sleep, Raylena._

A sense of calm settled over her mind, and she sighed, her mind slowing it's spin. Go to sleep? Yes, she might for once... actually sleep... _Impossible, you are..._

Solembum purred softly, waiting for the girl to go to sleep. She would for sure; he knew that. It would just be a matter of staying asleep. Once he was certain his charm would keep her in a state of unconsciousness, he stood to his feet and lightly walked out of her tent, disappearing into the night. She would finally rest.

He crept along in the shadows, mindful of his surroundings. So many dreams littered the night. Some happy, other nightmares from battle. Whirling around and creating a steady hum in the air. If those were contained in one mind... No wonder she was still mad.

For mad she was. The spell was broken, but the torment remained... _Witch-child, indeed._ He could sense her presence. She was never too far from their camp; somehow she managed to stay hidden and avoid the sentries. Her mind was a twisted mess, yet he could still sense her bemusement. Intelligent as she was, she was still a child with a child's mind.

The werecat nosed along the fabric of Horst and Elain's tent. Angela was inside. He hadn't bothered to find out where the men were staying. He didn't care. He lithely twisted through the small opening he managed to find.

Angela was sitting on the chair, knitting. The woman was still sleeping; no doubt from a brew his friend had concocted. She glanced up when he entered. "There you are. Fun day?"

_No more than usual._

"Ah. Any interesting news?"

_The child is still trailing the Varden. _

"She's confused, no doubt."

He curled up on Angela's foot, swishing his tail. His silence would be answer enough. Words were needless at this point. For a while, the only thing that passed between them was the sound of the knitting needles clicking. No doubt another pair of socks. She wore through them with all the scampering about she did. Not to mention it was relaxing to those who listened.

"How is Raylena?"

He yawned, blinking slowly. _No better. Her mind is even more ruined._

"Mmm." Angela tucked her work away into a pocket, frowning. "I do believe I know from what."

_'From where' would be more appropriate; one can only imagine the 'what'._

* * *

**Heh. I like torturing characters. It's fun.**


	8. Chapter Eight

__**BOO. I'm back. Here's some more. Anything alike is purely coincidental... though I can't imagine this one is. Nevermind, I was supposed to say that later. Anyway.**

* * *

_Raylena!_

Eragon bolted upright at his dragon's shout, his thoughts disjointed as he had been ripped from his awakening dreams. _What?_

_Raylena. You were thinking of Raylena._

_What in the name of Alagaesia are you talking about?_

_Earlier, when you were trying to speak with Glaedr. Your thoughts briefly passed to Raylena. Eragon, I think we should take him to her._

He frowned. _We don't even know her, why should we trust her with the knowledge?_

_Ask him in the morning._

Eragon stretched, then laid back down. _As you wish_. He mumbled a curse and then let his mind drift back into its vision-filled state.

In a matter of hours, the sun had started rising above the horizon. Eragon had been outside for a while already, performing the Ringmar, stretching his limits. Saphira was munching on a few small animals she had caught, hungry enough for a small snack. She knew he was procrastinating, but for once she didn't scold him. She merely sat there stoically, humor evident in her gaze.

Finally, he could do no more. He was covered in sweat from head to toe, and his muscles were nearly trembling.

_You overdid it._

She was laughing at him. He frowned at her, then slipped back into his tent, calling water up from the ground with a spell. _I needed the exercise._

_No, you just didn't want to bother about Raylena. Now hurry up._

He sighed, knowing the inevitable couldn't be prevented. If anything Saphira would tear his tent down and contact the older dragon herself. He might as well spare himself the trouble of using more energy for more spells later.

He felt uncomfortable speaking with Glaedr again so soon. Normally he gave him several days before trying again to make contact, but Saphira wasn't giving him a choice. Ah well. Eragon only hoped he would be mildly interested in the woman and not become irritated with them and retreat even further.

_Master?_ He hovered his hands over the large, golden Eldunari. _Master, a woman arrived a few weeks ago. _

There was no answer, though it was to be expected. No change in the temperature, either.

_Keep going, Eragon. He's probably waiting for you to get to the point._

He glanced at the large eye peering in through the door. She blinked at him in encouragement.

He cleared his throat, even though he knew it made no difference in his mind. _She is apparently very proficient with magic, though very much an enigma. When I thought of her last night, something happened. Forgive me for intruding, but do you know her?_

There was a slight change in his mind. Almost eagerness. From where? Glaedr? It must be, for Saphira had been enjoying herself the entire morning.

_I can take you to her if-_

A brilliant, golden light illuminated the tent, hurting Eragon's eyes. He squinted, then almost gasped aloud at the sudden reverberation in his mind.

_Yes._

Finally he had spoken! It was something to be thankful for, even if it was only one word. Yet that could not dampen Eragon's spirits. At last they had made some headway with the dragon. Understandable as his grief was, he was needed. Desperately.

Now, if only he could find Raylena... but of course, now that he was doing the seeking it was not to be.

He smiled and nodded, distracted when someone called to him during his search. The voice persisted, so he groaned inwardly and turned his attention, blinking in surprise when he realized it was Arya who had been following him.

She stood before him, clad in her usual attire. Her normal placid expression was replaced with one of anger. "What are you doing?" She gestured toward the sack, her eyes snapping.

He glanced down at the bag. "I'm looking for Raylena."

To his surprise, her eyes lit up, as if she knew why, though it was quickly hidden. "Would you like some help?"

"It would be most appreciated," he agreed, joy sparking in him to have the elf at his side. She still took his breath away, even if she also knew secrets she wasn't telling... such as the recognition when he spoke Raylena's name. Was he the only one in the dark?

She fell into step beside him, and he felt her mind brush his as she extended it. He had tried the same thing, but the last time he had connected with Raylena he had been scorched, so he had to admit his efforts had been done half-heartedly.

No matter. Arya was speaking to him again before she nodded. He stared into the distance, recognizing the face of Raylena as she walked in a different direction. She met his gaze, and he waved her to a stop. She paused mid-step and cocked her head, her smile fading.

"Be careful with her, Eragon."

He glanced over at the elf. Her face had not changed an inch from the relaxed yet guarded expression she always wore, though her voice held deeper meaning. "What do you mean?"

"There is something different about her..." Arya frowned slightly, then beckoned for Raylena to join them.

Her steps were hesitant as she approached them, though curiosity also reigned as she studied the satchel. She tore her eyes from it and focused on the pair, smiling and bowing slightly. "Good day to you."

Her mind was bubbling, expectation spilling over. Eragon smiled at her reaction. It was nearly like a child's. Perhaps this was what Arya meant... perhaps her mind was unstable. It was so different from the other attitudes she displayed. Come to think of it, she often bounced from one emotion to the other.

_Eragon, answer the lady._

He blushed, aware his mind had wandered. "And to you."

"May I inquire as to why you were looking for me?" She crossed her arms, staring unblinking at him.

Now that he was getting a better look, he realized the intensity she held with her gaze. It was lovely in a way; he had never seen eyes the color of hers before. They reminded him of Arya's with their unique beauty. Yet where the elf's were of a jeweled nature, hers were the untamed storm.

As if she had heard, Arya cleared her throat, shooting him a pointed look.

He coughed himself, then motioned to what he held. "It is because of this."

She raised her eyebrows, nodding slowly. "And?"

"Well..." he frowned, wondering where to begin.

_From the beginning._

He straightened his shoulders. "If you don't mind, I'll work my way to the present. Saphira and I were the students of Oromis, Togira Ikonoka, and his dragon, Glaedr."

Her eyes were wide, and a shudder seemed to involuntarily overtake her as her gaze drifted down. All of a sudden, Eragon lost every thought of explaining. The look in her eyes was enough. Somehow, she knew. She must know.

Arya never moved, though her mental barrier slipped, revealing pity and... anger?

Raylena held out her hands, tears clouding her vision. No, no, no... It was too much. Too much. She couldn't bear it. Couldn't have happened. No. Not to him. Not to either of them. No. How? How could it have happened? Too much to handle. Too much hurt. She hurt. She hurt so much again. He would never.

The bag was placed in her grasp, and the weight confirmed her fears. She sank to her knees with a moan. Couldn't be. It simply couldn't be. Not fair... she needed... she needed him. Needed him again. Couldn't be. She couldn't even think the word. It was driving her mad. Her hands were shaking, someone was speaking. She ignored them.

Had to hear... had to see. With another shudder, she let the cloth fall away. There it lay, bright and shining, the strumming in her mind so familiar. She couldn't see due to the tears. Not fair. Couldn't be dead. She needed him. With a sob, she scooped it up, cradling it to her heart.

_Ah, Raylena._

The sudden outburst of emotion that swelled through their minds nearly knocked Eragon and Arya off their feet. Raylena was rocking back and forth, weeping as she clutched Glaedr's Eldunari to her chest and murmuring nonsene. Saphira's suspicions were confirmed. Raylena had known them. Well, if his guess was correct.

_Dear heart, you need to control you mind._

Control? She had lost control years ago. No more control. Control? She didn't know.

_Focus, Raylena._

Her mind heaved, and then calmed. The large, comforting presence surrounded her being, soothing her shattered self, and piecing it back together. The spell was familiar. It had always helped. Still she wept internally, her mind aching yet, though it had slowed.

_You could not have done anything._

_I... I... I can't... How?_

_I do not wish to burden you further, dear heart. It is done._

_He... he's gone._

_Yes, he is gone._ A brief flicker of sorrow filtered through her mind, then was quickly pulled away when she flinched.

_You're gone._

_Yes, I am gone._

_You're here, but you're gone._

_Yes._

_I... I..._ Her thoughts began whirling again, and she pushed away his attempt to comfort and contain her, the desperation rising again. _I need you._

_I am here, dear heart._

_It's been so long._

_Yet here we are._

_I almost died._

_You are alive._

She shuddered and pressed her forehead to the stone, wishing she could huddle into his shoulder. _I didn't think I was._

_You are._

_Sometimes I wish I wasn't. Now I wish I could be with him._

He sang mournfully into her mind. _I know, dear heart. I miss him as well._

_Ripped away._

_I know._

She sniffled, shifting the stone to rest on her forearm as she wiped her eyes with her other hand. _You're tired._

_I am weary, yes. It has not been easy._

_You need rest._ She squeezed her eyes shut, wishing she could sit in his embrace for eternity.

_I will be here when you need me, dear heart. But you must regain your control... I can not sustain any spell for long, especially in this state. If he was here..._

She jerked her mind away from his before she lost herself again, cutting Glaedr off. Had to think of him, not herself. Hard, but she had to. Had to start somewhere. Control? Gone. Her mind should belong to a child, just as it always had.

How long did she sit there? Her arms had started aching, and her eyes felt swollen. She lifted her head, squinting. Arya was gone, but Eragon was sitting in front of her, looking at her strangely. Concerned? Saphira was circling above them, and it was as if she realized Raylena's return to reality for she then dropped down behind them, as gently as possible, though the earth still shook.

Eragon met her gaze, but for once he held his tongue. She stared back at him until he lowered his eyes. With a sigh, she reluctantly released Glaedr's Eldunari back into the sack. She then lifted the material to her face and inhaled deeply. It smelled like Oromis. Some fresh tears briefly blurred her vision before she blinked them away and stood to her feet, her legs trembling.

The Rider followed her, reaching out a hand to steady her as her knees locked. She took a deep breath, then held out the precious heart of hearts. "Thank you."

He looked at her with a slightly different gleam, sympathy slipping out of him. "Whenever you need it, just let me know."

She nodded, then stepped around him, crossing her arms. Oromis was gone. He was gone. Dead. He was dead. She would never see him again, never see his shared pain as she wept. She would never sit and speak with him again, watching the sun from the Crags of Tel'naeir. Nothing would ever be as it was. He would never be there to help.

Somehow she made her way to seclusion. There she was again overcome with grief, this time without restraint.

Eragon frowned as Saphira leaped into the air, pulling up and away from the camp, high into the atmosphere. Glaedr's Eldunari was firmly settled in a saddlebag. Try as he might to forget what had just happened, the peace emanating from the stone kept reminding him. He had sat watching Raylena for an hour. She had cried quietly nearly the whole time, and the Eldunari had been thrumming with energy.

It didn't make any sense. Obviously she knew who they were, and their deaths had disturbed her. But how would she know them so well to be so upset? The only people who had ever known they existed were the elves. And she couldn't be an elf; her ears weren't pointed in any way.

_What if she is a halfing?_

Eragon's mind froze. He stared at Saphira's head, the beating of her wings causing a drumming in his skull. _How could that be possible?_

_It would not be expected, but anything can happen._

_That doesn't seem likely._

_Do you have a better theory?_

He didn't... he supposed he could ask her when they next spoke, but until them he would drive himself mad wondering. Women were bad enough. Elves were worse. But a mixed female? Perhaps that explained the reason for her unbalanced state. It wasn't natural.

_Eragon, that's racist._

_It is not!_ He protested, indignant that she would say such a thing. _But when has it ever happened? Elf-children are rare enough. A human-elf-child? It's probably nearly a myth! It might be an explanation!_

_True. But still... you'll never know until you ask her, Eragon. _

_I will, as soon as I get the chance. It's mad, but I'll ask her._

They fell into a companionable silence, forgetting the brief argument as the wind rushing past their ears created a comfortable, familiar existence.

Arya too was restless. The army was nearly whole in spirits in health again; why not march out? They had been sitting too long. If only she could run ahead! Doing anything would be better than this.

She glanced around, the dropped her head. If only Eragon were around to speak to her. But no, he was out soaring about somewhere with his dragon. Ah, his dragon. Saphira was a delightful creature and a good friend. Perhaps she could bridge the unseemly gap between the two.

Arya had fallen. Never would she have dreamt that she could; especially not after... She shuddered, and shook off the thought. His death still bothered her, even if all romantic feeling had faded away. She should have done more to keep him alive. Yet what is gone is gone, and there is no use attaching oneself to the past and forgetting to live.

Anyway, her care had shifted from the dead long ago. Now it rested with a young man, one so very much different than herself. She couldn't help it. She had tried, but he was now all she had connecting her to anything she had cared about. Knowing Oromis had been a blessing; Eragon alone retained his secret wisdom and knowledge. Not that she would use Eragon to learn of it; never! She could never do that to him.

With a sigh, she fluidly unfolding her legs and stood, searching for a more solitary place. There were too many people, and she needed to think. Think of someone, or even something else than the Rider that so frequently occupied her thoughts.

* * *

**Yaaaaaaaaay. You know, I'm not going to even bother saying anything else for a while. It's really rather pointless.**


	9. Chapter Nine

**Time skips ftw. Yes, I lied. Yes, I'm sorry. "Read on, Lizzie!"**

* * *

An entire day has passed since Katrina had gone into labor. It had been three since the pains that ripped through her abdomen had begun.

Roran was pacing and swearing to himself, nearly driven insane. Several times he had tried to rush into the tent, but Raylena had thought ahead and put a shield in place. Eragon had lied and told his cousin he couldn't break it. She was distracted, so there was no doubt that he could have, but he didn't want her angry with him. And what good would it do? Roran would only get in the way.

So all there was to do was sit an wait. It was like a repeat of a day gone by. This time, Elain was running around giving the magicians what they needed while Gertrude tended her child... and Katrina was the one screaming. Every time a muffled scream was heard, Roran's mind would convulse. Eragon was strongly tempted to cast a spell to keep his cousin unconscious, but he knew Roran would kill him if he tried, or would when he awoke.

He briefly reached out with his mind again, trying to contact Raylena. She pushed him aside, a flicker of irritation reaching him before her mind transformed into the raging fire. He retreated quickly, not wishing to be roasted a second time. _Saphira?_

_She already told me to leave her alone so she could focus. We won't learn anything from her, and Angela is completely shielded._

_I only wish I could tell him _something_. Anything,_ he sighed.

Eragon forced his mind to retreat from reality and concentrate on something. Anything else. But nothing was coming. Saphira tried to help him, but nothing was working. At least the screams had stopped... or Raylena had put a sound barrier in place as well. Oh, it was maddening. If only they could learn _anything_, then-

The sound of fabric being pushed aside made both the young men freeze. Raylena stood in the doorway, swaying with fatigue. She squinted at the moonlight, then focused on a breathless Roran. They stood in silence for what seemed like an eternity, and Eragon was ready to scrounge through her mind, fire or not. Then she opened her mouth.

"I'm sorry," she finally rasped out.

Eragon's jaw went slack, and for a brief moment the world spun. Katrina was dead? The child as well? He couldn't believe it, but it must be true, for Raylena's mind opened and spilled what knowledge she could.. Roran must have seen everything as well, for he pushed her aside as he rushed into the dark interior of his tent.

Almost instantly the sound of his cousin's weeping reached his ears. Eragon was stunned, unable to find the will to stand. He stared at Raylena, wondering. Just wondering. His mind was spinning. "What happened?"

She shook her head. "I'm sorry," she whispered again, collapsing

Eragon instinctively lurched forward, somehow managed to catch her before she went face-first into the earth. He sat down heavily, her weight combining with his mental state to make his legs weak. Tears blurred his vision as he stared down at her. She looked so much older. He heard footsteps, and forced himself to raise his head.

Angela seemed as weary as Raylena. She glanced between Eragon's face and Raylena's still form, then sighed. "Eragon, will you retrieve Arya and Blodhgarm?" Her usual spring was gone, and for once the herbalist wasn't smiling.

Eragon hugged Raylena tighter and reached out with his mind, locating the familiar mind and gently pressuring it. _Arya?_

_Eragon. What is it?_

_Katrina's dead. Angela wanted me to ask you and Blodhgarm to come. Can you find us?_

_We'll be there momentarily._

She broke their connection. Eragon sighed and dropped his head down to study the woman he supported in his arms. She was completely unconscious, though the walls of her mind had receded from the fire to a murky swamp. She was still impenetrable, even being in such a deep sleep.

He retreated from her mind and focused on her face more fully. It was beautifully shaped. More stunning than normal humans; her angular features reminded him distantly of an elf. Yet she was no where near the unearthly looks of the woodland creatures. Arya far exceeded her in that way. But the elf, complex as she was, was no where near the woman he cradled in his arms. Not even Saphira's mind was as jaded and-

He heard his name being called. Arya and Blodhgarm strode up. Arya nodded at him briefly before she disappeared into the tent, no doubt to handle Roran so Angela could take care of the bodies. He shuddered at the thought.

Blodhgarm, on the other hand, stopped beside him, his fur rippling. "I believe you're needed to help with your relative. I will take care of her."

Eragon was about to ask for reassurance that she would be fine when Arya called for him. With a sigh he hesitantly relinquished his hold on Raylena, unable to tear his gaze from her for another few heartbeats. As he turned to leave Blodhgarm purred his condolences. Eragon ignored him.

After the young Rider had left, Blodhgarm gently lifted Raylena into his arms and turned away, keeping his breathing as shallow as possible. The stench of dead flesh was abhorrent, and he would need to cleanse himself of it as soon as he was able. First he had to see to the dear girl he carried.

He gazed off into the distance. It was as if the women of the Varden could sense his every move. Or smell. It was amusing for him, that something so trivial as the scent of fur could send them off in a whirlwind of emotions. Humans. They were flocking to him even as he thought it, though they were too shy to come too close. Good thing, for he wasn't in the mood to be bothered by the things.

Raylena stirred in his arms, blinking slowly. He glanced down and flashed his wolfish smile, a bit more peaceful now. "Hello, Raylena."

Her eyes were blank for a minute before she smiled faintly, finally recognizing him. "I knew you."

"Yes, you did. It's been many years."

"Mhmm." A shadow crossed her eyes, and she closed them.

He blinked and spoke slowly, humming in the back of his throat. "You did what you could."

"She wasn't even alive, Blodhgarm. She was already dead. Angela and I were sustaining her body, trying to save the child... but it was no use. He was strangled. After that there was no point. We released her to the abyss, and the boy as well."

Her mind was whirling again. Death. More death. So much death. Too much. It was all too much. She'd had enough of death to last her a lifetime. Life! Where was it hiding from her? Just out of reach!

"Raylena," he soothed. "Keep your thoughts together. Control them."

The other cat he knew was waiting for them, sitting perfectly still aside from flicking his tail back and forth. _How is she?_

_Troubled._

_Isn't she always?_

He slowed to a stop beside the tent, then tipped Raylena, letting her slide to her feet. He placed a hand on her opposite hip and escorted her into her tent. Once he helped her collapse onto the bed he murmured a few placating words, brushed her cheek with a finger, then slipped away.

Raylena tried. She really did. But her thoughts were angry, pulling and twisting her away. She couldn't help it. It was too much. Why did the baby have to die?

_Go to sleep, Raylena._ Solembum. The werecat was perched by her head in his favorite spot. He purred, his enchantment that had been placed earlier rising up. She mumbled something, but her mind began to realign and relax. In a matter of minutes, she was dead to the world. _Sleep well, my friend._

He leaped down and sauntered away_. She would be fine, now._

* * *

**I love killing characters. Makes me feel like I rule over them, or something.  
**


	10. Chapter Ten

When Raylena awoke, something in her mind had changed. She squinted into the darkness and shook her head slightly. Different. She felt different... almost normal. Normal? Hah! Nothing normal about her. At least she was thinking in a straight line... Straight? Yes, straight. Normal. As normal as she could be.

A rueful smile split her face. Normal? No. Never normal. Not anymore. Not ever before. She didn't know how to...

Her thoughts had just started to turn to Katrina when she sensed someone approaching. The man looked somewhat familiar; she wondered briefly if she should know him. Know him or not, it didn't matter in the end. What did he want? He was staring at her. Annoying. "May I help you?"

He was unshaken, his steely gaze drilling into the one she reciprocated. "Lady Nasuada requests your presence." Well, at least _his_ presence was a distraction.

"She does, does she?" She raised an eyebrow, determined to be stubborn with this man. She was in no mood for the game of politics. "Whatever for?"

"If you come you will find out."

"I could find out another time." She lazily rolled her shoulders and settled back against the tree, closing her eyes. "Or I could dig it from your mind."

He crossed his arms. "She has requested your presence for a council. You can't ask me why, for anymore I do not know. I'm her guard. She is under no obligation to tell me everything."

She opened one eye. "A Nighthawk." A statement- realization.

"Yes, ma'am."

She closed her eye again and sighed. Disappointing. The least he could have done was persist in vagueness. She needed a diversion. Anything. That wasn't fighting, at least. Nothing else this 'council' could be for. Politics governing war. Strife. More dead. More blood spilled. Her own, no doubt. She couldn't leave the silly humans on their own with their pathetic spell casters. "You may tell Nasuada that I will follow you shortly."

He bowed, irritation left in his wake as he disappeared. She waited several minutes before standing to her feet and following his path, her steps dragging. She didn't want to fight. She had to protect the treasure. There was nothing as important as protecting the treasure. Life! She wanted them all to live!

She shook her head as she approached the tent. The same man who had come to fetch her was now standing outside, stern and tall. She winked at him and whisked past before they could stop her and announce her to the group inside. Nasuada and Eragon, of course; Orrin, Arya, Blodhgarm, and Trianna.

Nasuada looked up at her, an unmistakable gleam of laughter mixed with rebuke in her eyes. "You're late."

"So sorry," she bowed, stepping forward to join them.

"No you're not." Nasuada allowed herself a smile before before a serious expression dominated. "I might as well get to the point. We have had over a month to recuperate here, and train and gather more troops. It is time we moved on."

Voices spoke over one another as the leaders debated their next course of action. The most obvious trail would be down the Jiet River; it seemed to make more sense to go another way and sneak up.

Raylena rolled her eyes. "Wouldn't they expect us to expect them to expect we'd go the wilderness route?"

Silence followed.

She sighed. "It would make sense that we wouldn't go the direct route in order to give ourselves more space and ability to scatter. However, I propose the former. Why not go marching up like idiots? We can cut across the grasslands to the *Lonely Mountain*, and then continue north along the Jiet from there."

"My Lady... as much as that would hold the element of surprise, it would leave us too exposed," Orrin rubbed his chin as he studied her. "Yet I'm led to believe you have something more in mind."

She grinned at him, eliciting a smile in return. "You are correct."

A full minute passed. Raylena's face had grown drawn; she was thinking. Now was not the time for that. Nasuada cleared her throat. "When you're ready, my dear, we are all anxious to hear it."

Raylena glanced over at her, the smile growing wider. "We ford the river."

She was met with blank stares.

"Oh, come now. It isn't so difficult to understand." She stepped around Trianna, pushing Orrin aside so she might reach the map and trace her finger along it. "We go north to the Lonely Mountain. From there we cut to the east and cross the Jiet River. Then we continue north until we reach Leona Lake. The people will remain sheltered from the battle, and we can easily leave some men to guard their other flank. After that one needs only to brave the cold water before lying in wait for the siege." She pulled away and crossed her arms, satisfaction written clearly on her face.

Eragon stared at her. It did make sense... they would still have available water, but it would give them a chance as long as they weren't caught in the river. That was the only flaw. "What happens if they catch us crossing the river?"

"There is a reason dragons exist."

"Dragon," he corrected. "We only have one." Her expression was unmoved, leaving him unsettled. "Still, you're right. She could easily give us a barrier of flames."

"It would be simple enough to douse it with a spell, if you'll pardon the pun."

Trianna shook her head. "Too dangerous."

Raylena whirled to face her, glaring. "What else do you suggest? There are limited options. It would at least give us more time while they searched on the west side. We-"

Orrin laid a hand on her shoulder, halting her rant before she could speak again. She glanced at him, then demurely lowered her gaze. "She is right, Trianna. There is little else that would present any surprise at all."

The magician frowned, thought she held her piece.

"Arya?"

The elf arched an eyebrow. "No matter the path taken, there is always a chance of disaster striking."

Orrin nodded politely, though a flash of irritation swept through him. No one would ever drag a straight answer from an elf. He met the eyes of the other one who merely flashed a toothy smile, his yellow eyes glimmering.

"We can confuse any wandering soldiers who would wish to cause us trouble."

The king nodded again, though the elf's response was somewhat alarming. 'Never cross an elf,' his father had always said. 'For they are winsome creatures led to do what they please.' He shook off the memory and turned to the Rider. "Eragon?"

The young man stared awkwardly down at his feet. "I've no mind for battle strategy, my lord. I've trained to battle in the skies, not work my way through on the earth."

Raylena hid a smile. Had Oromis never gone through battle strategy? Well, perhaps they hadn't the time. He did die, after all. The previous humor she had felt vanished. No matter. She needed to focus on this anyway.

Eragon struggled to keep himself from blushing. It was somewhat embarrassing; they all were cordially not commenting on his lack of knowledge.

_Oh, little one, don't be so embarrassed. You can't help the education you received; be thankful for what you do know._

_I know, I know._

_Now concentrate. Nasuada is speaking._

He blinked.

"-therefore, I guess it is the only way."

Trianna shook her head. "I still don't like it."

"Then think of something else, my dear," Raylena said sweetly. "Once you do we can discuss and compare the two."

Trianna stared at her, but the younger woman's friendly expression was unwavering, even daring. Finally the older magician frowned and crossed her arms, unwilling to take the bait and receive further humiliation.

Nasuada hid a smile. Trianna had long since realized her abilities were pale in comparison to the younger one's. Raylena was as skilled as Brom had been, perhaps even moreso. Still, there was something about her... she was very different now than she had been as a blossoming girl. Then there was a balance to her, though she wavered precariously on the line. Now she fell from one side to the other...

She cleared her throat as the discussion trailed off. "It is decided then." She clapped her hands, summoning one of the Nighthawks. One of the men appeared in a heartbeat. "I need you to select some runners to spread the word: we are moving out." He bowed, then retreated. "Now then, shall we have some refreshments?"

Trianna was the first to excuse herself, the elves soon following. Raylena proved herself to have a sharp wit that played well off of the king's. The four and Saphira were soon laughing gaily, though it wasn't able to last for long. Orrin was the next to leave, apologizing and thanking the trio for the brief time away from the stress they had been under.

Eragon settled back in his seat and close his eyes. Saphira was humming, perfectly content. For a moment, everything was fine. They were all safe and happy. The only problem was the over-hanging feeling that it wouldn't last for long.

Nasuada sighed and let her shoulders sag. "I thank you both for this. It has been too long since any of us have been able to relax."

Raylena's smile faded. "Nor will we for some time, I daresay."

Eragon eyed her. She had seemed to be fully away of her surroundings and normal in her thought process, unlike previous times where she had seemed scattered and detatched from reality.

The change in the mood was enough for her. She stood up, bowed, and hurried out. Well, perhaps he had been too hasty.

Nasuada and Eragon sat in silence. Saphira's song had ceased.

"Well, we are moving forward."

Eragon glanced over at her. She seemed distressed. "What is it?"

"We have all been waiting a long time for this. I grew up schooled about warfare. Now that the time has come, I am frightened."

"Of what?" It was a shock, really. She was normally so stoic.

"Of failure."

Time ticked by.

_I as well, _Saphira added quietly, a sentiment Eragon could only echo.

Raylena curled up in her tent, careful to first seal the small room with magic. Then she tossed her cloak away from her person and drew the rough sack out from behind her back. She stared down at it for several minutes before stretching her mind to it. Immediately the cheerful song filled her being, washing through her and calming her scattered thoughts.

The song changed slightly to one of wonder. It sensed that something important had happened and wanted to find out what. Raylena closed her eyes and let the day flow from her into her companion. It took a while to process the information, then sent her an affirmative pulse.

Raylena smiled at the new bounce of energy that emanated. Excitement. The time was coming soon. She could sense it. The joy passed through her, making her feel lighter than she had in a very long time. It had been too long since there had been something so good.

But then... a pause. Worry. Discontentment.

_No, oh no,_ she whispered gently. _You are perfect just as you are._

It took several soothing phrases before the melody was once again appeased and satisfied. She laughed to herself, then tucked the bag away, pleased with the news. She twisted around until she was laying in a more comfortable position. She let her mind relax, forgetting what she had just set into motion. No death tonight. Only rest...

* * *

***So there are these random two mountains in the middle of the map of Alagaesia, and I in my brilliance decided to flat out copy Tolkien. I love Tolkien. I'm so going to the midnight premier of The Hobbit.***


	11. Chapter Eleven

**Whoohoo. Oooo, surprise at the end.**

* * *

Here they were. The river Jiet flowed before them, rushing and churning. It had rained for several days and had stirred up the waters, causing a torrent of power. The people were nervous, and rightly so. Nobody wanted to ford a raging river. Not even Raylena would dare be so bold as to try to swim.

The elves were standing together, conversing. Raylena had joined them. Eragon stood off at a distance, watching. Saphira had already flown across, calculating the exact distance at their position and the condition of the river. So far, all anyone could do was wait. And now that they were here, waiting was the last thing anyone wanted to do.

Arya was staring at him. When he made eye contact, she gave him a tight smile and with a flick of her wrist motioned him over. He moved, drawn by the intensity of her stare. She let her smile fade as she turned to face the others. Blodhgarm gave him a toothy grin. "We're going to build a bridge."

"How?" Eragon frowned. The only thing alongside the riverbank were large boulders. "Out of those?"

"Very good," the elf's grin widened. "We can sculpt the stone and seal it together. It shan't take us too long, though it would help if you applied your strength."

_And mine,_ Saphira added as she coasted back over the river and landed next to them. Privately to Eragon, she added, _We have the belt if we need any more, as well._

_Yes, though I'd rather not use that unless absolutely necessary._ He withdrew from his mind and smiled. "Of course."

So it was decided, and they begun.

Eragon couldn't help but watch Raylena as she set about her task. The woman was frightening. The ease with which she handled herself while using magic was enough to give anyone a feeling of concern. It was too much for one who was not an elf. Yet she obviously didn't care about that and kept on with her business, coolly ignoring the quick glances and muttered curses.

Her eyes were suddenly locked on his, the color and depth matching that of the raging river. She winked, throwing him off even more. She was barely even trying, and she wasn't speaking much at all. Eragon shook his head and focused on what he was doing. _There is much more to her than meets the eye. To be using spells without words!_

Saphira agreed.

In an hour, the elves, Raylena, and Eragon had constructed a stone bridge. It wasn't perfectly flat and there were no sides to it, but it would have to do. It took the entire afternoon to move everyone across. Once everyone was safely on the other side, the magicians of Du Vrangr Gata removed the boulders and placed them approximately back where they had been.

Nightfall was swiftly approaching, so camp was set up again. A whole day practically wasted. Eragon sighed and kicked at the dirt. Now that they were finally on their way, he only wished they were already at the foot of Belatona. If only he could bypass the days in between; the long, insufferable days of traveling and waiting. Patience had never been one of his strong points... though perhaps this would be a good learning opportunity. Ah, if only he had some sort of machine with which he could travel forward in time.

He glanced around him, slightly surprised to find the sun nearly gone, and another pair of eyes watching him. He turned around and found himself face-to-face with Raylena. The woman was staring at him, the familiar blank expression in place. He blinked, then bowed slightly. "Pardon me. I was lost in my thoughts."

She laughed. "How polite of you," she smirked, raising her eyebrows. "Forgetting civility, I have a question for you." She paused, expecting a response.

He nodded slowly, bracing himself for anything abnormal to next come out of her mouth.

"What do you know of the last egg?"

He had been right. Abnormal. Random. What did she care, anyway? Unless she thought her skills would be a good match with a dragon. Which of course... it would make her nearly unstoppable. A female Galbatorix, minus the hundreds of dragons assisting her. If she had... but no matter. That was not important now. "Only that it is green and male."

She mimicked his earlier response, silently nodding. "Do you know where it is?"

"It is with Galbatorix in Uru'Baen."

"That's what you have been told, yes," she frowned, crossing her arms. "Thank you, Eragon; that's all I needed."

Before he had a chance to say anything, she had spun on her heel and strode off.

He stared at her retreating back. _She will never cease to surprise me._

Raylena was confused. Yes, confused. More than normal. She was often confused, but this was different. New. In Uru'Baen? But how? Not when she carried it on her back. She had long had it in her possession. Was Galbatorix in the dark as to where it truly was? Had they been so bold as to slink beneath his gaze and knowledge?

She swept into her tent and dumped the egg out of her sack, frowning down at the shell. It was hard for her to remember... it wasn't as smooth as the others had been, being lumpy with chips and scars, the colors fading and blurring. Nor was it as large. Perhaps she was wrong; it was not a dragon egg. But how could it be otherwise? The song... she pressed a hand to her forehead. Too much. It was too much to think about. Only one way to find out... and that would be soon. Unless it was all a lie.

No, no... she had to trust it. If she didn't it would only drive her mad; it had helped calm her thoughts many a time. Even if it was a lie and would never hatch, it could at least soothe her senses and keep her sanity intact. At least what was left of it. There wasn't much, but there was enough to keep her wits about her. Wits were good. They kept everyone around her alert and ready for what she might do next.

It was funny... they never knew what to think of her. Crazy, brilliant, everything went back and forth with rarely any middle ground. And most of the time it was only negative. Ah well. No matter. It wasn't worth her while to dwell on it.

Which, of course, was the exact reason why she did.

* * *

**Eep. An egg.**


	12. Chapter Twelve

**PLOT TWIST. EEEE.**

***ahem***

* * *

The time had come.

Raylena's eyes shot open and she leaped to her feet, her mind instantly clearing. The cracking had alerted her senses and had drawn her from a dream of the same sort. Now she was sitting again, cradling the egg. Cracks scattered down it and created a beautiful web of intricate design, soon to be shattered into oblivion.

She was excited. Her nerves were all alight, tingling down her spine and making her fingers go numb. Hot, cold, and hot again. So much joy and so much pain. Back and forth, weaving through her mind, sending her tumbling around and around. Yet she was so happy, willing the creature to emerge, her eagerness building and building until she was sure she should burst.

And then, a noise. The first of many. She gently set the shell down, careful not to dislodge any of the pieces. It was the infant's duty to break through into the world. She could not interfere. It would do the job incredibly well, from what she could tell. Here it came...

The song was now swirling from her mind to her physical ears, filling the tent with its refrain. Then it was over. The hatchling curled up amongst the shell, stretching and blinking. Raylena stared down at her, tears finally spilling. After so many years, new life! She reached out a hand, waiting for the baby to notice her.

After a minute, the tiny, green eyes met hers. Their communication had been brief and infrequent, but already there was recognition laced through the beautiful, twinkling orbs. Raylena sighed contentedly as the hatchling rubbed her nose against the woman's hand, enjoying the first feeling of touch. Raylena smiled and scratched the little dragon's forehead. _iLyara?_

_...good...meeting you..._

Raylena spent the rest of the night cradling and loving on the new little dragon. She wanted to share the hatchling with the others, but iLyara had refused. Besides, it was the middle of the night. No need to start the day any earlier then it would naturally. And once they all knew of iLyara's existence, there would be no getting rid of them. Then it would be searching and searching for the Rider.

Raylena smiled ruefully and shook her head, tucking the hatchling against her stomach. iLyara had finally fallen asleep, tired from her ordeal. Now it was time for the nanny to rest as well. Morning would come soon enough, and she needed rest so she could deal with the rabble... her dreams were light and filled with hope.

Eragon yawned. One of the Nighthawks had aroused him from his wakeful slumber. His mind was weary; he needed the extra rest he was going to grant himself. One morning without the Ringmar wouldn't kill him. But no. Raylena was ordering an emergency meeting, and for some reason she was being taken seriously.

He was now perched on Saphira who was making her way to Nasuada's tent. It would take them merely a few minutes, plenty of time to relax and recuperate some more. With a jolt, he was dragged from his thoughts. They had arrived, and it was now time to find out why Raylena was in such a state of excitement.

He sensed her mind. She was definitely hiding something, almost mischievously. It bothered him. He wanted to know what was going on. He briefly touched the minds of the others gathered- Nasuada, Orrin, Blodhgarm, and Arya. The former two were in a state of shock, and the latter two were joyfully amazed. What was going on?

Saphira suddenly shivered from her head to her tail. _Eragon, hurry!_

That was enough for him. He swiftly stepped into the tent, blinking as his eyes adjusted. The expressions of the faces before him mirrored the impressions he had felt. Nasuada and Orrin were completely taken aback. Blodhgarm and Arya both looked incredulous, though their faces were stretched with wide smiles. Raylena was standing still with a look that he had never seen before, and the tiny green dragon on her shoulder was flicking its tail aro-

His eyes nearly popped out of his skull. Raylena laughed aloud, joined by the elves. "In Uru'Baen?" She was nearly hysterical, and the little dragon was jumping up and down. "Never," she gasped out, wiping her eyes.

Eragon could only stare. The dragon was so small. She was barely as long as his forearm. Her little green eyes sparkled with the same intelligence that Saphira's had held. Her scales were a brilliant emerald; the tough armor showing on the underside of her tale a foamy green. Her little wings were perfect; everything about her was precise and compact.

But her size... as soon as his thoughts turned to it, the little being snorted and leaped at him. He yelped as she attached herself to his head, both physically and mentally. She was very indignant. _My apologies._

She growled, then nipped at his ear, chuckling and puffing smoke when he winced. She bounced into the air and drifted lazily back to Raylena's shoulder, curling up next to her neck. The woman reached up a hand to stroke her back, tickling the scales beneath the wing. The miniature dragon squirmed, earning a smile from Eragon. Small she was, but she was still beautiful.

"What is her name?"

"iLyara," Raylena gazed lovingly down at the small form. "Her name is iLyara, and she's been very patient while waiting to meet Saphira."

The older dragon bugled, and in response the newborn squeaked and jumped to the ground, racing out of the tent. The commotion that followed was fantastically deafening. The dragons nuzzled each other, reveling in the other's company. iLyara finally perched on Saphira's nose, her tail methodically swishing back and forth as they communicated.

Raylena slid her hand into the crook of Eragon's arm and squeezed gently. He turned in surprise to see tears filling her eyes. "What's wrong?"

"I've been carrying her egg for months. I know a dragon's egg, Eragon. I never knew what to expect. I could speak with her, in a way. She would sing to me, and I would know what she was saying."

Sing... _The song!_ "That's why Saphira reacted as she did when-"

"Yes," she interrupted. "Because I was able to mimic the tongue of dragons. I couldn't have had a better teacher." Her gaze was shining, both with the tears and love.

Eragon couldn't help but smile at her reaction. She truly did care. He reached over with his other hand and covered hers. She shifted her bright eyes to his, the sweet smile creating such an innocent look that he couldn't help but be taken in. He pressed her hand gently, then the two focused their attention back on the dragons.

"How large was the egg?"

"It was smaller than normal... not as smooth. Scarred and wearing. She's already bigger than she was when she hatched."

"Really?"

"Mhmm." She watched as iLyara began climbing all over Saphira, inspecting the larger dragon's scales and spikes. She then scampered out on a wing and sniffed around, stretching her own out. "She wasn't much bigger than my hand."

"I wonder why she's so... different."

The woman shrugged, though the openness they had shared seemed to fade. She must had a theory, though obviously she wasn't going to tell Eragon. It irritated him slightly, but he was also annoyed that she had grown stiff again. No, he was not going to let her escape him again. "I wasn't asking you to tell me."

She glanced up at him, her eyebrows arched. He smiled weakly at her, hoping she wouldn't be affronted. She stared at him unmoving for several heartbeats before a faint smile crossed her lips again and she nodded.

He was satisfied. They then stood in silence, for once enjoying the simple pleasure of life. iLyara was truly a gift. Raylena as well... though in different ways. At least she hadn't completely closed herself off from his reach. Perhaps he may yet break down her barriers and pull her out of whatever pit she was lingering in.

iLyara was once again rather sad. She was so happy to be free from the constraint of her little hole, but at the same time it had been a comfort. At the moment she felt so small, so insignificant.

_Ah, little one... do not ever believe that._ Saphira twisted her head around and breathed on the tiny being. _You are special. You are one of the last of your kind. Don't ever regret that._

iLyara snuffled and rubbed her face against the side of Saphira's nose, her emotions abruptly changing again. Happy. Yes, she was happy now.

* * *

**Rawr.**


	13. Chapter Thirteen

**Aaaaaaaaaaw.  
**

* * *

Eragon couldn't help but smile. Raylena was chasing iLyara around, jumping and diving at the little dragon. iLyara was already very agile for her size, but overnight she had grown nearly double her length. She had gone several days without growth, and the sudden spurt had thrown her off balance. Saphira was sitting off to the side, laughing.

Raylena leaped forward, crashing face first into the ground. She spit out some dirt and made a face. Not the best thing she had ever tasted. iLyara fluttered overhead before landing on her back.

_I win! I win again!_ iLyara bounced up and down on her feet, thudding into the woman's back.

Raylena winced, then rolled quickly, sending the dragon flying. She lunged again and planted her hand on the small stomach. "No you don't!"

Eragon had to laugh with her. She was sweaty, covered in dirt and grass stains, but she had never seemed so alive. Her lessons with iLyara had only made Raylena seem even more elf-like. She could move and twist with an agility that set her at a far distance from mere mortals, yet she lacked the natural fluidity of the elves... very much like himself.

She glanced over at him, her eyes sparkling as she smiled. She stood to her feet and brushed herself off. "Enjoying the show?"

"Yes," he said sheepishly. "It's very-"

"Unorthodox."

They turned and met Arya's frown. The elf was standing with her arms delicately folded across her chest, though her body was stiff as she stared at the other woman. "What are you trying to accomplish?"

"Merely helping her adjust to her new size."

"I don't-"

"Arya, she's nearly twice her previous length, and this happened during the night. It's not a steady thing that she can live with, learning as she goes." Raylena matched the elf's position. "Complain if you will, but I'd rather hear a better idea."

They stared at each other. Eragon shifted his gaze between the women, and if he were being honest with himself he had to agree with Raylena. They were running out of time before they reached Belatona; the little dragon was needed to help with the siege. She would be of no help if she couldn't even control her body.

Arya was now sending him a pointed look, silently demanding that he side with her. He inhaled deeply, then shook his head. Her face changed visibly. She spun on her heel and stalked away, her hands clenched into fists.

Raylena sighed. "Thank you, Eragon." She gently patted his shoulder before turning around. "iLyara! Are you ready?"

He could only stand and stare at the elf's retreating back. She was furious with him, no doubt. But why? It was only logical that they do everything in their power to ready iLyara. Saphira could only do so much, considering the size difference. iLyara needed other sorts of training; she couldn't compete in a regular battle with another dragon like Saphira could. She was powerful, but her size was also a handicap as well as an advantage.

No matter. The elf could do as she pleased. It pained him briefly, but he was once again drawn to the dance between Raylena and iLyara. They were training while enjoying themselves. He began to smile, and after a few more minutes he could take it no longer. He removed his knife and the belt of Beloth, which held Brisingr, setting them next to Saphira. "Raylena! Might I help?"

She shot him a mischievous smirk. "Why not? Two on one!"

Before long they were all laughing. Some of the people and soldiers had stopped by to watch before they moved on, shaking their heads. Two of the most powerful magicians were lying in the dirt, scrambling to pin down or corner a small dragon. It was a sight to be seen, for sure. After a while, they were too hysterical to continue.

Raylena collapsed laughing next to Eragon who was on his hands and knees, gasping for air between shouts of laughter. Tears were running down her face as she literally convulsed with each breath, curled on her side. iLyara nudged Raylena's ear with her nose.

_Raylena, are you quite well?_

"Perfectly!" She coughed, her breath catching as she attempted to speak coherently. "It's just... oh, my!"

Eragon finally was able to breathe, though his lips still quivered as he chuckled. He pushed himself upright, chuckling as he looked down at himself. "I look as bad as you do."

"Then surely you must be as content." She wheezed a few more times before she rolled unto her back and extended her legs, sighing before she giggled again. "I haven't had this much fun in years."

"Nor I," he grinned, standing to his feet and holding out his hands.

She placed hers in his and boldly met his gaze as he pulled her up. "Thank you." Her smile was brilliant; her teeth the only thing clean on her. Her eyes were so much brighter than they had ever been before.

He found himself smiling dumbly as he gazed at her. She was so different... there was a depth to her that he had brushed upon in their recent conversations, yet the playful skirmish of today revealed that she still acted as a child. He didn't even know how old she was. Her beauty was striking; less perfect than Arya's, but more exotic. As with the elf, he had no idea how old she was. If she were part elf, and not many years older than himself, she might still be considered a child.

There was so much more to her than meets the eye... and she was so happy. Perhaps now would be the time to find out? "Raylena... I have a question."

The smile faded slightly. "What is it?"

"How can you possibly move so quickly?"

She stared down at the foot she had instinctively started tapping. "You must have a theory of your own."

"Yes, Saphira and I... discussed it. I was curious. However, I don't want to be presumptuous."

"No, you do not. You lived with the elves a while, did you not?" She was smirking now.

He sheepishly ran a hand through his hair. "Yes."

"They told you how rare elf-children are?" At his nod, she combed her fingers through her hair, pulling the locks away from her ears. "I noticed you studying me, no doubt trying to look for a point that would betray me as elf-kind, but as you know there's none to be found." She let the hair drop as she shrugged. "As I'm certain you guessed, I am indeed a 'halfling'. My father was an elf; all I know is that he seduced my mother. She would have done anything for him. Unfortunately, he had no interest in raising a child after her mother died giving birth." Her voice faded, and for a moment she was lost in her own thoughts.

_How dreadful,_ Saphira remarked, careful to keep her words in Eragon's mind. _To be abandoned like that; both of them._

_Elves are fickle creatures._

She blinked, then shook her head. "Forgive me," she whispered, her eyes clouded and dark. "Eragon, you remember when you first brought me Glaedr's Eldunari." A statement, not a question. "I know you have wondered about it. The reason..." her shoulders drooped, combining with her disheveled state to make her a sorry sight. She inhaled deeply, then raised her head. "Oromis raised me."

It made sense, and he pitied her. There had been no question of whether or not she knew the Mourning Sage and his dragon, but the close connection made her reaction even more feasible. The only father she'd known... just like Garrow... "Raylena... I'm so sorry," he whispered.

She turned around, not wanting him to see the tears, though he already had, her shoulders hitching in as she drew within herself. He couldn't bear it. He steeled his nerves, then stepped forward bravely and pulled her into an embrace, repeating what he had said in the Ancient Language.

She let her head rest back on his shoulder, shivering. Just thinking of him, and all that had happened... It hurt still. It would always hurt. She squeezed her eyes shut, determined not to lose control. It wouldn't do to have a breakdown. Not now. Not after how far she had come. She was fine. She had enjoyed herself, and she wasn't going to lose control now. Not now. Not. No. She wouldn't. Control. Had to. She had control.

Eragon sensed the muddle she was drifting towards and released her, causing her to focus again on her surroundings. It seemed to help, for she blinked several times before she seemed to give herself a shake and turning around to stare at him again.

"Time to get cleaned up, I think." She managed a brief smile and whispered, "Eka elrun ono," before she slipped away, iLyara following.

Saphira stood and stretched, flapping her wings several time and sending more dust flying. _Well, that is a piece to the puzzle._

_Yes, and it supports her command of magic as well. Not only does she have the elvish blood, but Oromis! That's at least sixteen years of constant tutelage. She must have a wealth of knowledge unlike anyone else in Alagaesia. Perhaps she could teach us..._

Saphira nodded, but then the thoughts and feelings of food filled his mind. _Sorry. I believe it is time for me to hunt._

_You could have gone earlier; I wouldn't have minded._

_No,_ she chuckled deep in her throat, spitting out sparks._ You would not have. _At his frown, she nudged him with the tip of her wing. _It was also very entertaining._

_I'm sure._ He waved as she leaped into the air, flapped to gain height, and then soared away. Once she was out of sight he decided to find a private spot along the river and bathe. Raylena was right; it was definitely time to clean up. He was covered in dirt and grass, and twilight hovered around. Still, he couldn't help but smile. The last few hours would be one of his favorite memories.

* * *

**Aaaaaaaaaaw.  
**


	14. Chapter Fourteen

**Eep. Short.**

* * *

Raylena sighed as she brushed her hands through her hair, hovering as close to the small fire as she dared. It warmed her skin and helped dry the long, thick tangled mess. She shook her head, flinging droplets of water around. iLyara extended her wings and gave them a shake, her nap interupted.

"Forgive me."

iLyara hummed briefly before closing her eyes and once again curling up. She would soon be too large to fit in the tent... though hopefully she would save growing until the morning. Raylena did not wish to wake up smothered by iLyara's tail. She smiled at the thought. It would be a story to tell, as long as she did no suffocate.

Before long, her hair was dry. She searched in a pocket for her comb, then set to the task of untangling the locks. Magic would speed the process, but it was calming... part of a memory. She could still feel his hands working at the task. Another quarter of an hour passed before she was finally reclined on her blankets and closing her eyes, ready to sink into sleep. She had thankfully been sleeping lately rather than being in the normal elven state. It differed from night to night, but something had changed...

No doubt the werecat. It had been days since she had seen him last, but he had surely done something to her mind. No matter. It helped. It was good. She began relaxing her muscles until she was limp. Now to quiet her mind, and then she might sleep. She needed it after the strain she had put on herself. She was definitely not used to acrobatics.

In a few minutes, she was still. She slept, and unbeknownst to her the prowler crept around her tent, glaring and muttering, and hating. What she was seeking was unknown, even to her. But she found some companionship with the strange woman with her twisted mind. And she hated her for it. Hated that she was so unique, and so troubled. It bothered her. She could barely control it, yet it was also a balm. Soothing that someone else could share an unusual existence.

A purr made her tense. The werecat slunk alongside her, rubbing against her ankles. She hissed at him, irritated he had found her. She had wanted to be alone. He would be in the way.

_Do not disturb her, child._

She batted at him and scrambled away, determined to get his thoughts away from her. There were plenty of other things to be done. The night beckoned the witch-child with the shining brow.

The werecat wandered back to his original position and delicately lowered himself back down to the dirt. It was not ideal, sitting in a place like this, but he had to continue shaping her mind. She was doing better... repressing the memories would only do so much, and he honestly did not know what would happen if they broke free, but... there was nothing else to do. And if she could forget entirely, the better off she'd be.

Arya lay flat on her back, her hand folded on her stomach. It was troubling. It had made her furious; but why? Reason told her to agree, but she did not wish to. She wanted her to leave, to go back to where she had come from. She was a child, yet she held so much more than she herself did while being so much older. Arya frowned and once again pushed the thought away. It truly should not matter.

But it did. To see him with her, laughing and elated as he had never been. Never. Not once had he ever behaved so foolishly with such delight. And she was envious. Oh, she was envious. She wished she had the ability to command him to a state of such frankness, but all she did to him was make him tongue-tied. Even that was starting to fade, as quietly as it had come.

She wanted it untrue. He had even despised her for a minute; she had felt it. He'd had a flash of anger run down his spine at her disapproval. Then he had pushed her away. She had left, but then she had returned. They had not seen her standing in the shadows, watching with jealousy making her hands clench.

She should not be so bitter. He had fallen at her feet time and time again, and she had rejected him at every opportunity. It made sense his affections would shift, especially to one even more mystifying than herself. For though she tried, that woman owned it. Perhaps even without meaning to, she commanded such an air of detachment and mystery as to drive anyone insane. For Eragon, the insanity turned to attachment.

It infuriated her as much as it made her heart ache. She had not felt like this since the death of-

No. She musn't get lost in the past. Life would unfold in the way that it chose; she had been given her chance, and now she had lost it. It was agonizing, but she was resolved to overcome it. She would go on as she always had. She was Arya Drottningu. She would live.

Her dreams that night were troubled.

* * *

**'Slunk' is a funny word. But according to Mozilla it's better than 'slinked'. These parts of life...**


	15. Chapter Fifteen

**Poor wittle dwagon.**

* * *

It was time. They were at the east side of the Jiet river, waiting. The sunlight had caused them enough trouble for today. Night would soon fall, and then they would move out. I was both exciting and terrifying for the young dragon. iLyara was perched on a stone, cautiously peering over the water and to the city beyond. She blinked several times and yawned. The training that she and Saphira had just completed had worn her body out. She had time to rest; for once they crossed they would still have to lie in wait until the proper moment when their plan was executed.

And what a plan it was! Raylena had declined helping figure out the details; she said she would merely go along with whatever was decided upon and that figuring out a way to kill would not change the end product. Her bitter friend. She didn't want to do it; iLyara knew. The woman shared her secret thoughts with the small dragon; she needed someone to speak with. So iLyara knew. She knew enough to make her scales itch.

Poor Raylena. She pitied her friend. Her life was still tormented, though perhaps in a different way. Still, the dragon sensed there was even more that she did not know. She wanted to know; wanted to help, but at the same time it frightened her. There was enough in the elf's mind to drive any normal being mad. Thankfully she was a dragon and was fully capable of handling the horrors Raylena endured... no doubt due to the ones she had suffered herself.

Her wings twitched involuntarily. Time and more clear contact with Raylena had told her many things. It opened her eyes to what she had known but had perhaps locked away, wishing to remain comfortable and stable in her own life. It was time she admitted to it, so she had. It hurt, but the hurt helped. She was different not because of chance, but from a calculated experiment. And not just one. Many. Over and over in the dark. That was why she had sung. The singing had helped alleviate the pressure, and had helped the other mind to calm and stop its frantic pulse that had frightened her.

As she now knew, the other mind had been her friend's. They were joined by a bond so unexplainable; this was the reason she had not formed a connection with anyone or felt drawn to any creature. It was unnatural, but it was her life. She was destined to remain alone with the friends she met, and not with a soul mate to ride her back and sleep tucked under her wing. In a way, she envied the older dragon.

Saphira and Eragon had something she could only ever hope for. She was content enough, but it still left a small ache when she saw them together. Everything was different when it was them and only them. Everyone else at those times were just there. They barely existed in their eyes. It hurt, but it was the truth.

At the same time, she was thankful for her freedom. She didn't have a two-legged person following her around or driving her crazy when they were parted. It was a blessing as well as a curse, she knew. That was why she was determined to overcome the feeling of loneliness. And she was never truly alone, she knew. Raylena was there for her, as was Saphira. If one of them died, she would endure. At least her death wasn't forever linked with another.

Still, it was something to think about. Think about? She snorted and rubbed her nose along her leg, stretching around to judge once more how far away the end of her tail was. Think about? From all the times she had communicated with Raylena she had apparently started following the strange woman's thought patterns. Skipping and dancing about in a queer way that somehow followed a straight line. She wasn't mad like the elf was, though.

Speaking of elves... she lifted her head and turned around, sniffing. There was one nearby. A faint recognition filtered through her mind as she finally found the tall, dark form with her eyes. It was not the he-wolf, but the other. The one who disapproved of her. The female who wept over the Rider and hid the pain from him.

Arya picked her way along the river, thinking. The night had driven her daydreams insane. They were a pile of nightmarish circumstances, yet she didn't remember a single one. It bothered her. Normally she was in control, but this _woman_ and Eragon had set her off. It reminded her of Gil'ead and the time she had spent with Durza. She laughed aloud, one sharp note. It seemed that strife followed the other woman wherever she went, and then magically rubbed off on whoever she happened to meet.

Such as herself. Princess of Ellesmere, a strong, proud elf who had always held herself above the petty things of humanity. And here she was, drawn down into their pits of despair like a regular human. Love and anguish and separation; these were not of her kind. It had somehow grown even stronger through the night. Thoughts of Elfy** (Faolin) were long gone.

She tensed, not knowing the foreign mind. It was like Raylena's, but different. She turned around and found herself face-to-face with the little green dragon. The deformed, ugly beast who could never be a credit to her race.

iLyara clacked her teeth, her eyes lighting with a deep emotional fire. _I don't appreciate such rude things, elf._

_Forgive me, little one. My thoughts are dark today._

_Your own thoughts do not excuse those that you think towards others. I cannot help the way I am. If I could change then I would grow larger than Glaedr had been. But I cannot. Do you know why I am who I am?_

Arya had to break her gaze away. The little dragon was now sad; why? _No, I do not._ Part of her wanted to know, and the other told her it was something that she would regret being told.

_Then I shall tell you._

Minutes later, Arya stood ashamed. The knowledge now revealed to her sent another barb into her heart. Once again, she was wrong. _iLyara, forgive me._

The dragon nodded her head and blinked. _I will. I just wanted you to know. I didn't know myself at first, but after digging through Raylena's mind while she slept I figured it out._

_How were you able to do that?_

_It would seem a charm settles into place everytime her mind relaxes and lets her body rest. It is foreign; I have never felt it before. _

_You were in an egg before._

_I know, but I still would have sensed a spell encasing her thoughts._ iLyara scratched at the ground, sniffing. She smelled a small animal, and the talk had made her hungry.

"Reisa!"

The small, burrowing creature was lifted from the ground. iLyara let out a small puff of flame, extinguishing its tiny life. She munched quickly, swallowed and flicked out her tongue, tasting the remaining smell of burnt flesh on the air. _Thank you._

"You are welcome." The elf crossed her arms and stared beyond her.

_What is it that troubles you so?_

She raised her eyes and smiled weakly, shrugging. _Nothing that should._

_Come now; I saw the look in your eyes when Eragon disagreed with you. It pained you greatly._

_Not long after I met Eragon, he formed... an attachment. I did not return this. Not at first, anyway._ She glanced over at the river, the churning waves matching her emotions. _But once I did, it seems his had already turned. Perhaps he doesn't even realize it; he is young. But soon he will, and then I will be forgotten forever._

iLyara nudged her shoulder with her nose. _I'm sorry my friend has caused you so much trouble. I assure you she has no intentions of winning Eragon's heart._

_Be that as it may, it is done. _She crossed her arms tightly over her chest, clenching her jaw.

iLyara licked her chops, the quick snack settling in her stomach and making her crave more. _If you will excuse me, I need to hunt. That only made me hungrier._

Arya smiled. _You are a growing girl. Go. I will be returning to camp soon enough. The sun has almost set; then it will be time to move._

_I will be back in time. I don't need much._ She stretched out her wings, then with a mighty leap propelled herself into the air, driftin gupwards when she found a breeze, keeping her wings still. It was something Saphira had told her to practice; she didn't need to be tired before the battle.

Arya sighed once more before she walked slowly back towards the rest of the army. It would be time, soon. She needed to focus so she wouldn't find herself being run through while they took Belatona.

* * *

**Sooo... the 'Elfy' thing was a funny thing. I edited and put the final touches on this story several nights in a row and would work until after midnight. I have a bedtime, you see, so my mind would get fuzzier the more time passed... when my sister was proofreading for me, she found what I had done. Being so tired and no doubt in a rather silly mood I happened to write 'elfy' instead of 'Faolin'. I couldn't remember his name, so I'm guessing I found that a fine alternative. I love laughing at myself.**


	16. Chapter Sixteen

**"Not all those who wander are lost..."**

* * *

Raylena wandered around, frowning. iLyara was no where to be found; for a while Raylena couldn't even sense her friend's mind. Where was she? It was starting to unnerve her. The men were getting restless. Word was being passed that it would soon be time to move out. Metal was clanging, and soft goodbyes were being whispered to the wives and children brave enough to journey alongside their soldiers.

She paused as she reached a fire. The man looked familiar; his sons did as well. For his sons they must surely be, for they favored him greatly. Only one was dressed in armor. The eldest, she guessed. He was staring boldly at her. She met his gaze, slightly taken aback by the familiarity. Where had she met them before? People were come and gone. Who were they?

"Father," he turned, motioned with a tilt of his head towards her. The older man glanced at her before he jumped to his feet. "Raylena!"

She blinked, her brow furrowing. Where... oh! It was maddening. She was truly becoming more forgetful as the days passed. "Forgive me, I-"

"Helped save the life of my wife." He took her hand in his and pumped it. His smile faded at the confusion he read on her face. "Angela was there, trying to help birth the chi-"

"OH!" She gasped, trying to laugh as embarrassment flooded through her. "Forgive me, Horst... my mind has been rather elusive lately." She smiled widely, giving his hand a firm shake. "How are you?"

"Fine, just fine... waiting, as is everyone."

"You're not fighting?"

"No, I'm a blacksmith." He hooked his thumbs into his belt and straightened his shoulders, a proud smile lighting up his face. "Albriech is going into the trade himself, but Baldor has chosen the path of a warrior," he reminded her. She was odd, that was certain. Addled, even. He had seen it before.

Albriech smiled; she recognized the warmth from the first time they had met and smiled in return. Baldor greeted her with the same aloofness, and her smiled faltered slightly. The reason was unfathomable. She had no idea why he despised her so much.

She briefly heard Horst invite her to sit with them. She then heard herself accept, though she only half listened to his chatter, responding when she needed to. Eventually he grew quiet and pensive. This was her chance.

She turned to meet Baldor's hard gaze. The young man still stared at her. There was only one way to find out why. _What is it that I have done to upset you so?_

He flinched, frowning as she smiled faintly. _Just think and I'll hear you._

_I'm not daft. Eragon has taught me some things._

_Not how to guard your mind, I presume. It was far too easy. I could have taken control and you would never have known what was happening._

_I was distracted._

_Distraction is an excuse. You must learn to always keep your mind shielded, no matter how _distracted_ you might be. An enemy magician could use you against us._

_Or anyone else._

_Yes, but they look for those who have some intelligence and knowledge, and not any regular sap who wields a sword._

His mind grew quiet, though he withdrew slightly as he studied her. Had she just insulted or complimented him? She was still gazing at him, her eyes wide and innocent, though the edge was not lost to him. Perhaps Eragon and Roran's training had helped him be more conscious of others. He didn't trust her. _Point taken._

_Now back to my original question: What have I done?_

_It's nothing you've done, but anything that you could do. _He crossed his arms, satisfied as her expression changed to one of irritation.

_There is much I could do, but little I will. Why do you mistrust me so? Eragon trusts me, and he is far more knowledgeable than you are._

_He is enamored. I am not._

_No,_ she laughed, though not aloud. _No, you are not. You despise me._ The lilting tone changed to one very serious. _You do not trust me. You don't have to deny it._

_I wouldn't deny it._

She blinked, the only physical reaction she gave. By now his father and brother were sneaking glances, no doubt aware of their silent conversation. No matter. He could explain to them later or choose not to. He didn't have to tell them everything.

_I don't know the reason for it, but trust me when I say this: I am dangerous, yes. But I will _never_ act on my power as others have done before me._ She stood to her feet, resigned. _Dislike me if you will, but know that I would never do anything to hurt anyone... excluding soldiers in the Empire._ She smiled ruefully.

_You like watching them die?_

_No, I hate it. I have seen so much death. More than you could ever imagine._ She flicked her eyes to meet Horst's. He was confused, and rightly so. _Never enjoy death, Baldor. You will be a better man if you hate it yourself._

_I must hate protecting those I love?_

_No, you must hate the necessary means to accomplish that. Nothing is perfect; that is why violence exists._ She inhaled deeply and pulled away, finished. She smiled at Horst. "You have raised your son well, Horst. If you will excuse me; I have misplaced a dragon and I need to find her before it is time to attack." She bowed and slipped off into the shadows.

Horst turned to find his elder son brooding. "What was that about, lad?"

"Nothing." He tightened his jaw.

Horst rubbed his chin and then sighed. "As you say." He exchanged a look with Albriech, then turned his attention back to the fire. This war had changed them all.

Raylena wandered toward the edge of the camp, frowning. Another long walk and still no sign of the dragon. _iLyara!_ She shouted, wincing at the echo in her mind. Thankfully she had remembered to specifically direct the shout; hopefully no one else had heard her.

A slight nudge at the back of her mind made her suddenly aware of the dragon's presence. She squinted, trying to locate the exact place of the dragon. The dusk shielded her, though as the distance between them vanished she began to hear the familiar beating of iLyara's wings. She turned in a circle, scanning the sky all around before she spotted her.

_Raylena!_ The little dragon raced towards her, skidding to a stop overhead and floating down. _How are you?_

_I've been looking everywhere for you! Where did you go?_

_I was hungry._

The sheepish tone to the words helped dissolve Raylena's irritation. _Of course you were. _

_You don't have to worry about me, you know._

_I know, but I still do._ She scratched the nose, marvelling at the size. _I think you grew again._

_Really?_ iLyara gave herself a shake. I don't feel any different.

_Mhmm. Your nose is wider._ Raylena laughed. _And now it is wrinkled._

iLyara shook her head, the funny expression still in place. _Do I look different?_

_Not much. _She patted her nose again, then jumped onto her back. _We're expecting marching orders any minute._

_How will they deliver them?_

_Through a relay system. There are already men stationed throughout the camp on the older horses waiting for the word. Once they see another rider coming they will leave. Everyone knows to be ready for the signal to fall into line._

_And then the river crossing!_ iLyara coasted down beside Raylena's tent. _What about the camp?_

_It will be protected. Du Vrangr Gata is in charge of that._ Though she knew the dragon couldn't see, she rolled her eyes. _We may come back and find it burned to the ground._

_Come now, there are some skilled among them._

_Some._ Raylena slid off her back and slipped into the tent. Perhaps she would sleep for a bit before the command was given.

* * *

**FIIIIIIIIGHT.**


	17. Chapter Seventeen

**I. Hate. Dialogue.**

* * *

She awoke to iLyara's prodding. _Raylena, I can hear him coming._

Raylena stood up. _It is time, then._ She scanned the small tent, wondering if she would ever see it again. Her few belongings would be hidden; even if the camp was ransacked she would still find her items later. Still, she didn't like leaving things behind. Never did.

The horses hooves raced passed her little home. She glanced over, watching the shadow pass the doorway. It was time. First, her sword.

Raylena pushed her cot aside and stared down at the scabbard, tears filling her eyes. It had been too long since she had used it. Never mind used, even looked. She had locked it away, not wishing to view it. But now it could prove useful. Nothing could withstand it, except perhaps Brisingr.

iLyara squeezed her head into the tent of her friend. _Raylena?_

She glanced over at the little dragon and managed a smile. _You know, it matches your scales. _She returned her gaze to the sheathed blade, then sighed. No. Now was not the time. She couldn't bear it. Not now. It was too soon... it would have to wait.

It took merely a minute to readjust her bedding, once again concealing the weapon. Once that was done, she set about with her armor, using magic to tie it where she couldn't reach. iLyara silently watched her motions, blinking. Her friend looked ferocious indeed. Almost like a scaly dragon. Beautiful calm that could rage into a crashing tempest.

_I appreciate the thought._

Raylena was grinning at her, all traces of her disheartening emotion gone. iLyara grinned back, then was careful to guard her thoughts. At least her friend's mind was steady and focused; hopefully she wouldn't slip and do something stupid. The last thing she needed was more trouble of any sort. Or to die. That wouldn't be in anyone's best interest, least of all her friend's.

But still, trouble there would be... at least, that's what she thought. It was unusual, this feeling. Like Saphira, only different. As big, but less strength. Yet still as powerful. Confusing. She couldn't make any sense of it, but it was coming. And somehow, she knew it would distress her friend highly. She wished she knew so she could warn her. It wouldn't do for her to be surprised.

"Are you ready?" Raylena stood before her, fully armed and tense to go along with it.

_As ready as I will ever be. Saphira is a good teacher._

"You'll do fine."

Eragon looked over his shoulder when he heard the familiar sound of iLyara's wings stroking through the air. He raised his hand in greeting when he saw Raylena clinging to the tiny dragon's body. _I still can't believe it,_ he shook his head.

Saphira inhaled, letting out a small jet of flame in greeting. _Believe it or don't believe it. Just be thankful she's with us._

iLyara landed lightly, skidding ever so slightly on the rock. Her tail flicked around as Raylena slid off and saluted. _When are we going to start?_

_Patience, little one,_ Saphira chided, poking the smaller dragon with her wing. _Just concentrate on all I told you._

iLyara growled, earning herself a chuckle as Saphira nudged her again.

Raylena strode over to where Eragon and Arya were standing. "Anything yet?"

"Nothing. Orrin and his men circled to the west, but they haven't moved from there." Eragon shifted his eyes back to her nonchalantly, taking in her appearance. The armor she wore was old, but another look told him it was also elven. In fact, it looked very similar to the armor Oromis had kept in his hut on the Craigs of Tel'naeir... no matter. It was so old; she must have inherited it from someone in his generation.

Arya was staring at him when he focused his attention away from the other woman. He raised his eyebrows at her, fighting a blush. Why should he be ashamed? He frowned at her when the look didn't leave her face, and she turned her back to him. Well, fine. If she was going to be rude, then she was. He didn't have to be.

Raylena's eyes were twinkling as she glanced between the two of them, silently laughing at their silent exchange. "What are they waiting for?"

"For what are they waiting," Arya corrected, frowning at Raylena. The other woman merely lifted an eyebrow, so the elf rolled her eyes. "I can't quite make it out."

iLyara snorted. _I can feel something. They _are_ waiting, for something big. Big like you, but not as good. But better. _She blinked once, then again. _Saphira, I don't like this._

_It's a good lesson in patience, little one._ The elder dragon leaned her head over and nudged the younger one. _Sooner or later everything will swell into a massive battle. Then you won't get any rest for hours. Enjoy it while it lasts._

_Yes, Saphira._

Another hours passed. Or was it two? Eragon had long since lost track of time. He glanced around at their small group again, wondering what they were each thinking. Arya was impassive; any of the closeness they had begun to share after the battle at Feinster had seemed to disappear. He couldn't explain why. It bothered him somewhat... but Raylena was always there to talk with him if Arya would not.

The dragons were speaking to each other. He could listen if he wanted to, but with a smile he refrained and kept himself detached, leaving only a slight connection with his friend. They needed some privacy now and again; just like Glaedr and Saphira had done on rare occasions. In any way, if it was important Saphira would tell him.

And Raylena... her face was a mixture of many things. He thought he could almost detect a hint of fear in her, but the tangled mess of her mental barrier threw him off once again. He smiled to himself. "Mess" was the perfect word to describe her. Everything from her mind to her hair, and the expression-

Or not. Now it was set. He refocused on her face, then stood up. "What is it?"

Fear. No, terror. Terror ripping through her. Piercing and tearing and crushing. Not again. She couldn't bear to see him again. Why, oh _why_ was he here? Especially after what he had done...

The fear faded, replaced with a rage. Eragon was speaking to her, but she ignored him. Now was not the time. Betrayed. He killed him. The one thing that had been a constant, the one person who might have been able to help her. Gone. With a breath, vanquished. Never to be seen again. After all those years, the one thing she needed to see. He would pay.

Back to fear. No, sorrow. Tears? Yes, she was crying again. So many tears. Everything had turned around again. Focus? iLyara was telling her to focus. But how? It was all his fault. He had broken his promise, and then killed him. Broken promises. So many broken promises. How many more? She couldn't bear it any longer.

None. She would finish it. Shaking? She wasn't doing that. Surely she wasn't. Nothing like that in months. Couldn't be happening. Hadn't even remembered in so long...

Eragon squeezed her shoulder, shaking her roughly, trying to break through the daze around her. "Raylena! Snap out of it!"

iLyara raked her claws on the rock, nearly making Eragon's ears bleed. Raylena shivered at the sound, and then blinked several times, squinting as she made eye contact with him, the trembling abruptly halting. "Sorry, what?"

The blank stare. _Not again!_ She was closed up... too tight for any penetration, save for iLyara. "What do you know?" He stepped away and crossed his arms, glaring down at her.

She mimicked his pose briefly, and then dropped her gaze. "He's coming. That's why they're waiting."

"Who is?"

_Murtagh._ iLyara snorted out flickering green flames.

_No._ Eragon spun away, clenching his fists and jaw. Of all times... but of course he would be. Had to be. His brother.

As the dragons began to discuss Murtagh, Eragon sighed. Obviously Raylena knew something about Murtagh. What, he would never be able to guess. Unless she knew he had been the one to kill Oromis and Glaedr... that would explain it. But there was so much more in her eyes, something he couldn't place. Why had she reacted so violently, as if there were something personal attached?

_Why indeed, Raylena?_ Saphira sheltered her thoughts from Eragon. _Why?_

A swarm of emotions surged through the young woman before she managed to hide behind another tricky maze. _Don't ask me. I'm not telling you._

The group fell into silence again, though this time it was filled with a tension. No one knew exactly when it would happen, and if then what. They hadn't been told all of Nasuada's plan, just that they were supposed to wait for the signal. A very obvious signal.

"Look!" Arya pointed down towards the city. With their piercing eyesight, Eragon and Arya could pick out a small group of soldiers creeping towards the city gates.

Then everything happened at once. The small band suddenly leaped to their feet and ran screaming. There were a few arrows fired, but they were deflected by shields, no doubt put in place by Du Vrangr Gata. Once the guards attention was distracted, a horn sounded. Then another. From every side, it seemed like.

Then an answer, but it was nothing compared to the Varden as there was a sudden surge forward by the rest of the troops. And then the real wait began.

At least another six hours had passed. Arya had left long ago, leaving Eragon in "her capable hands" as she had murmured before sweeping away to "place myself where I might be useful". Since Eragon and Raylena were the ones "with the dragons", she might as well be gone, considering the signal was more meant for the Riders... well, one Rider. No one was quite sure what to label Raylena.

She was staring at him again. He could feel it, but he refused to meet her grey eyes. They were too deep. He'd rather not feel like someone else was reading his mind.

_Talk to her._ Saphira poked Eragon's shoulder with her wing.

_What do I say?_

_Anything. Just try to get her to speak. iLyara said she's starting to lose her concentration, which is especially not a good thing for her on top of the normal trouble when losing one's focus before a battle._

_Alright, fine. But you know I don't speak well with women, _he grumbled, shooting the dragon a glare as she chuckled.

"Raylena?"

"Mmm?" She rubbed a hand over her eyes, then smiled. "Sorry."

"How are you doing?"

Her smile faded as she began to study him. "What do you mean?"

He stared down at his feet, feeling his ears turn red. Next would be his face. Eragon glanced up to see iLyara nudge Raylena and the woman's eyes light up in laughter as she struggled to keep a straight face. "With Murtagh."

Again, it were as if a light went out. "Murtagh," she mumbled, gritting her teeth. "If you don't mind, I'd rather not speak of him. Except to wonder about where he's keeping his sorry hide."

"You only want to know so you can tan it," Eragon laughed, enjoying the look of brief amusement on her face. "No doubt you have a reason. Don't worry, if I ever get him pinned down I'll make sure I let you know."

Raylena grinned. "If?"

"When," he returned her smile, happier now that she wasn't brooding. The abrupt mood swings were back... hopefully not permanently.

_Eragon?_ iLyara butted him with her nose, interrupting the companionable silence._ Eragon, what will you do if Galbatorix has given Murtagh more Eldunari? _

_"I'm not sure,"_ he both thought and spoke it. "Though I have no doubt Glaedr will lend some assistance if we need it. He is more powerful than several Eldunari; add to that the magic of the elves, and Raylena, I believe we will still be able to match him, if not best him. As far as we can tell, Galbatorix doesn't know that Glaedr gave us his Heart of Hearts. However, it is also logical, so we still have to assume that he would think so, especially if they couldn't find it. But-"

"Eragon?" Raylena was rubbing her forehead.

His line of thought fizzled out. "Yes?"

"Leave the reasoning to the politicians. You're giving me a head ache."

* * *

**Really. Really. Hate. Dialogue.**


	18. Chapter Eighteen

**Mary Sues ftw. Over dramatizing is a guilty pleasure.**

* * *

_Eragon! We need help! Where's Raylena?_

Arya's cry soared through the confusion, but all Eragon could see was Murtagh. Murtagh and Raylena's white, fury filled face. She turned slowly to meet his eyes, hers a swirling tempest. "Go help her."

"But-"

"GO!" Her shout trembled with energy; magic was nearly bleeding from her. She was frightening; he had never seen anything so terrifying. Not even the Ra'zac. They were cold and calculating; she was ruthless spontaneity. There was nothing worse than a mad woman who's next move could never be predicted. Especially a mad woman feeling much more powerful as she carried an Eldunari.

"Saphira and iLyara can handle Thorn. Go to Arya, help them break through. I will take him."

She was calm now. Frightening, indeed. Eragon met her eyes again briefly, and she flashed him a wicked smile before sprinting off with a shout, calling to the dragons. He didn't like it, but apparently he had no choice.

Saphira leaped past him, blood and gore dripping from her fangs and claws. _I will look after her._

_Look after yourself._

She enveloped him in a mental embrace, then continued to follow that path that Raylena wore through the maze of bodies, leaving a tendril of thought attached to his so he could monitor the situation. The girl was dashing about, dancing lightly on her feet as she wielded her blade when necessary. She was almost through... no need to waste any more time.

Saphira jumped and snapped her wings down, swiftly rising. She swept forward and roared, skidding to a stop in front of several soldiers who were bearing down on her friend. Raylena wasted no time in scrambling up into the saddle, waving her sword and shouting incoherent words and one special spell.

The dragon raced off into the sky, aiming towards the red beacon that was soaring towards them. Closer, and closer... they could almost see Murtagh's face; the shock when his eyes met the girl's.

_iLyara! Now!_ With a shudder, Raylena ended her spell.

A roar was heard, and then all of a sudden a green streak of lightning appeared in mid flight and barreled in from the side, slamming into Thorn. He roared, and Murtagh's cry was also heard.

Immediately, Raylena shut her mind down. He knew her weaknesses. Focus, focus. The rage swept through her again as Saphira rushed down from above. He was staring up at her again, with that look she knew so well. And emotion she felt was overcome with fury. Fury. Rampaging fury. He would be sorry. Oh, would he be. He would regret ever speaking to her all those years ago. He would regret everything.

His sword was drawn. She barely had time to whip out her own before the two larger dragons connected. Murtagh shouted something at her, but she ignored him. She couldn't let him get an upper hand. There was a brief touch against her mind, but an overwhelming sense of strength swelled through it as Glaedr growled deep within himself.

A large ringing sound. She could barely tell what she was doing. It was all instinctive. Thorn roared, hurting her ears. She winced, then reached out to Saphira's mind. The elder dragon wheeled away, and iLyara followed suit.

Thorn hovered in place, the only sounds between them the beating of wings and cries from the battle below. They were close enough that she could see Murtagh's chest rising and falling rapidly. Scared? He had better be. At least surprised. No, definitely surprised. No matter what he had ever said he hadn't meant it. At least she surprised him. He could never take that away from her.

He was saying something. She shook her head, blocking it out. Words would betray her. He would lace them with the poison from his heart and confuse her even more. She was fine. She was thinking straight. She wouldn't get distracted. Couldn't. No distractions. She was fine.

"Raylena!"

She frowned, then forced herself to make eye contact. She wasn't scared. Couldn't be scared.

"Raylena..." his face was creased with new lines, though there was still shock emanating from the boundaries of his mind. "You're alive."

"Even if you wished otherwise," she shouted, swinging her sword. "Liar!"

"Lena, I-"

With a roar that contradicted her size, iLyara sped forward, anger flowing from her, fueled by Raylena's rage.

Thorn started to turn, but then suddenly dropped. The two females peeled away from each other and pointed down as well, determined not to let him get away.

_Focus, Raylena._

She was gasping for air, trying to concentrate. Soon it would all be over. Thorn abruptly pulled up and twisted away, sending out a column of flame.

Raylena deflected it away with magic, then glanced down. Murtagh was standing on the ground, staring up at her, sword in hand.

_I don't know if that is a good idea, Raylena._

_Something must be done. You and iLyara have Thorn at a disadvantage. I can handle Murtagh._

_Handle him, perhaps. But yourself?_

She risked another look down, then turned her eyes back to the sky. _I'll have to learn sometime. _

Murtagh stared at her as she jumped lightly off Saphira and fell to the earth in a roll, coming up with her sword drawn. She was older... so much older. Hardened. The feeling about her was nearly crazed. She had lost herself when they had taken her away. But still... the same determined face, jaw set and tense muscles. The same beautiful eyes. Eyes filled with anger.

She snapped her sword down in front of her body as she strode toward him. As the distance closed, he was able to see into her eyes again. Dark with anger. Resonating with energy. If looks could kill, he would be more dead than a skeleton. Fury wasn't deep enough. And she had every right...

Her pace slowed until she finally stopped, several yards away. Now she met his eyes with boldness, showing no fear or mercy. Hate. Now he could see it. Hate. She hated him as he hated himself.

"Hello, Raylena."

"Murtagh."

His name was ground out. He fought to keep his expression under control. "I never thought I would see you again."

"That was your wish, I know."

"No..." he fought the rise of emotions. So many emotions, regret being the most noticeable. Regret for failing her. All of the vows tangled it around until he wasn't sure he was even breathing. "I-"

"Don't waste your breath," she hissed, pointing the tip of her sword at his nose. "I don't want to hear anything from you, _murderer_."

So she knew. Obviously she would be furious... that was understandable as well.

She bent her knees, sliding down into a battle stance. "You could not have any sunk lower."

Murtagh clenched his jaw. Her shoulders jerked, and then she lunged. "You killed him!" She cried, hate and hurt twisting into a pointed shout. He threw his sword forward, deflecting hers away. She continued her frenzied attack, forcing him to back peddle with her speed. She always had managed to fine-tune her elvish instincts when she was furious.

She was saying something. He scrambled to pay attention, and with an inward groan recognized a spell. And he had no idea how to counter. "Raylena! It wasn't me, I swear! It was like all of those times-"

His breath was sucked from his lungs as a blast of magic sent him flying backwards. He clutched Zar'roc, knowing he would be dead if he didn't hang onto it. He supposed that was she had been asked to do, and once she lost control of her mind there was no telling what she would do. His thoughts churned as he slammed into the ground, rolling and flinging the blade up to ward off any attacks. She never wasted time.

He inhaled deeply, trying to steady his breathing as he glanced around. Where was she? He stood to his feet, then howled in pain as something thudded into his leg. He collapsed to one leg, gritting his teeth as he tried to readjust his pants to see what had happened. When he did hit bit back a gasp. A small stone was imbedded in his flesh. And another one was coming.

Murtagh scrambled for a spell, barely spitting it out to deflect the second one before it struck him in the head. She was bouncing a third on on her palm, much larger, but she seemed hesitant to throw it. A pool of blood had already accumulated on the dirt, drawing his attention back to his present situation. He grasped for the gem attached to his belt, using the energy stored in it to heal his leg.

One small, sharp noise shifted his gaze. He gasped and dived away from Raylena's sword before she ran him through. He came up on his feet and held Zar'roc pointed down. She had paused again, boring her eyes into his. Try as he might, the guilt was starting to tug at his heart. How he wished he could do something else.

iLyara roared, and they both looked up, their present struggle forgotten. She was clinging to Thorn's tail, scratching and biting, while being tossed to and fro as the larger dragon started to plummet.

She jumped and spread her wings, shooting up while Thorn had to scramble to keep from crashing to the earth. Murtagh winced as he felt the strain on his dragon's wings. Saphira was dropping in fast. Raylena was shouting something, a spell, and for the moment was distracted.

A sudden burst of anger swept through him. He didn't know what she was doing, helping iLyara or hurting his dragon, but it was enough. He sprinted forward and tackled her before she could react, pinning her down on her back.

"Where did you get the egg?"

She squirmed, trying to twist away. She tried to speak a spell but he covered her mouth. "Answer me!"

Her eyes were storming. After she lay still long enough he slowly removed his hand. If she was going to kill him she would have already thought the spell. Why hadn't she?

"Where do you think?" she hissed, glaring up at him. "I was never setting a foot near Uru'Baen again! Not unless I had ten thousand men behind me. I'm not an idiot; I know my limits."

"Why was it there?"

"How should I know?" she wrenched his arms around, trying to free her own.

He winced, but he held firm, squeezing the pressure point in her small wrists to make her stop. "He's young, then?"

"No, _she _is not." Raylena frowned, though she finally paused in her efforts to free herself.

"Why, then, is _she_ so small?" She. The last dragon was a she. So they weren't going to kill him? They couldn't. Thorn... he was the last male dragon. They couldn't kill him, or Thorn. They would survive this somehow. Murtagh forced himself to focus as she was speaking again.

"Your friends enjoyed spending time with her egg."

"They are _not_ my friends," he matched her frown. When she rolled her eyes, he sighed in frustration. "I know you hate me, but-"

"Hate is not strong enough," she hissed in his face, her words spoken in the Ancient Language.

The phrase stabbed deep, though he forced himself to remain stoic. "So be it," he whispered, also in the Ancient Language, swiftly rising to his feet.

She jumped to hers, but before she could kick out at him he hopped onto her feet. She leaned away, then lurched forward before her ankles broke, falling against his chest as she tried to regain her balance. At his faint smile she spat in his face, pushing against his mind with her own and trying to jerk her feet out from under his while she threw a punch.

She truly did hate him. It was almost impossible to imagine. When he had first seen her, the expression set on her face hadn't deterred him from his joy... and he still felt it. She was alive. He thought they were planning on killing her, but apparently they'd had more fun keeping her on the edge of death.

She hissed in a breath, retreating behind her mental barrier, and he saw the look on his eyes. He spoke before she did, muting her tongue so she could not cast a spell. She was now too tired to think it. Her eyes sparked and burned hotter than before. He frowned, wishing he could do something to remove the anger from them. With a sigh, he shook his head.

Her face was now blank, and even the hard edge to her eyes seemed to have softened the longer they stared at each other. Murtagh released her wrists and brought his hand up to her face, tracing down the hidden scar on her jaw, barely realizing what he was doing. He felt her tense up, and he quickly stepped away, drawing Zar'roc again.

She lightly crept around him back to where her own sword had fallen. He watched her, trying to let her realize he wouldn't attack until she was ready. She didn't believe it. Her eyebrows were arched as she bent down and picked up the blade, brushing some of the dirt off it, but never taking her eyes off him.

Finally, she straightened, hesitantly proffering the blade. It was a dull, regular sword, very notched from battling against Zar'roc... surely she had not lost her other one. His eyes shifted to her face, surprise coming when he noticed the tears leaving marks on all of the dust covering her.

She was also trembling. He hadn't even thought of that earlier; she had been furious, but in control. Now she was starting to fade. He let Zar'roc tip down, ignoring the thoughts of destroying her. "Raylena, I-" He was cut off. What had she done to him this time?

Murtagh screamed in chorus with Thorn, the sound hurting his ears while the confusing made his heart race. He collapsed in agony, still shouting. His head swelled until he thought it should burst. His heart was going to jump out of his chest. And the pain. What had happened?

Thorn screamed again, the sound growing louder and louder until it was overwhelmed with a thunderous crash. Murtagh squinted through the tears and fought to keep his vision from going dark. The ruby red scales twinkled in the light, set off by the wretched shaking of his dragon's body.

Another jolt of pain, and his mind went blank, Thorn's cries echoing.

* * *

**Ooooooooooooo.**


	19. Chapter Nineteen

**Freakin' shoooort. Oh well.**

* * *

iLyara and Saphira circled around the red dragon, both of them trembling with anger. It was as if his scales dripped with the blood of their fallen companion. Saphira's teacher, and iLyara's heart through the love Raylena had held for them. He was despicable. Nothing more than a worm in their eyes. Never mind that he was the last male.

With a sense of unity, the two attacked as one. He was valiant in his efforts as he evaded and spun away from their talons and teeth. He growled and used his firepower, trying to even out the odds. He was strong, more so with the Eldunari attached to his Rider. But strength could not overcome numbers... especially those that knew the ins and outs of the other's strategy.

The females came at him again and again, battering him until his scales were turning colors from the onslaught. He was weakening. He was being pushed to his limits. The only advantage he had was the small one's inexperience. There were so many times he slipped; had she any knowledge of battle she could have ended it. But she didn't, and that helped him.

She was, however, very capable of attaching herself, which she then did. Her body wrapped around his tale, clawing and scratching. She didn't weight too much, but it dropped him down. They were both going to die. He twisted, finally flinging her to the side. He fell quickly, trying to halt his momentum. Saphira would be coming in on him any minute.

All of a sudden, there was a pause. The two females drifted back and circled around each other, looking into the distance and communicating with each other. Finally, iLyara pulled away and turned in the other direction, speeding off towards Belatona. Her assistance was needed elsewhere, and in the blink of an eye the fight was even.

Saphira swiftly came at him again, raking with her claws, and roaring when he connected with her hip. They grappled and did everything in their own power to crush the other. But nothing could be done. He could feel something; another thought in her mind. The large dragon. The one he had been so happy to see. No. He had given it to them.

A roar. His own. White hot pain raced through his veins as Saphira pulled up and bugled. There was another blast of magic, and then it was done. He couldn't bear it, and his wings folded.

iLyara raced towards Belatona, letting out another massive roar and a wall of fire as she sailed over the wall. The Varden all began to cheer, but she chose to ignore them as she tucked into a dive and skidded down next to Eragon and Arya. And then there was blood. Blood and fire and stabs of pain.

Eragon and Arya kept a running stream of commentary into her mind, supporting her as she moved and then ordering her to follow. Slowly but surely they forged a pathway through the swarm of soldiers and husbands fighting for their city. The Varden and Orrin's men came around them suddenly and pushed forward to one side, leaving the other flank for the elves, Eragon, and her.

She was sad. All she had ever known was the joy of life until now. And here she was, destroying it. When would it end?

Eragon was at her side in an instant, yelling at her to concentrate. How she wished her friend was here. She would know what to say. Somehow living in a nightmare helped her understand the agonies of others, even if she did come across as cold.

A young boy now stood before her. He met her steely green gaze, and though tears filled his eyes he raised his sword. A toothpick, really. A smaller girl was huddled behind him. They were dirty and thin. iLyara snapped her jaw closed. So much potential in life. Who was she to decide it would end? He wasn't even a threat.

_Run._

He flinched, then his eyes widened as she suddenly jumped forward and pushed him backwards with her snout. _Run. Hide. Lay down your sword, and you won't be harmed._

He sat down with a thud, the metallic sound of the blade against stone being the only sound she heard.

She could feel him staring after her as she leaped after Eragon who was now a hundred yards ahead of her. When she appeared at his side he glanced at her, instinctively blocking another sword thrust. She swished her tail and batted a man aside with her claw as if he were a fly.

_You did well, little one._ He smiled at her, though it didn't reach his eyes. It mirrored her own sadness.

Then they felt it. A huge, horrifying tower of power and magic. Off in the distance a dragon screamed.

* * *

**So I saw The Dark Knight Rises today. AWESOME. No, it doesn't have anything to do with the story, nor does the Batman plushie I own and took to the theatre with me. Oh well. You know anyway.**


	20. Chapter Twenty

**DRAMA. ISH.  
**

* * *

Raylena staggered to her feet, her eyes wide, staring at the carnage that she saw. Saphira slowly circled down to the ground, drained of all energy. She landed in a heap, dropping her head to the ground and letting herself sag. Raylena turned her astonished gaze to the dragon, then stepped over to her side, laying her hand on the scales, and transferring as much as she could spare to Saphira.

Saphira cracked one eye opened, growled deep within her throat, and then closed the eye again, resting in the new cushion of strength.

Raylena turned back around, then clenched her fist. No! She wouldn't help him. She couldn't bear to see him in pain. Pushing herself as fast as possible, she hurried to the red dragon's side. Thorn groaned when she laid a hand on his leg and tried to pull away from her. "Lie still," she whispered, stroking the scales as tears came unbidden. It was too familiar. Too painful.

_So... sorry..._

The words rasped into her mind. She leaned her forehead against his side, listening to the precious sound of his lungs drawing in and releasing air; the not-so-steady rhythm of his heartbeat. It was now or never. "This is going to hurt."

As she prepared the spell, Thorn's heart slowed. "Hang on," she breathed, concentrating. It would be so hard. Focus. She had to focus, or she would never be able to do it. Focus. She had failed before; she couldn't do so again. His chest had nearly caved in, and the other...

Saphira's tired mind enveloped hers. After taking a deep breath, she spoke the spell, fighting to stay conscious as it immediately sapped all the reserves she had left.

Then a new power. _Glaedr._ The dragon fed her his strength, sustaining her and clearing her mind as her vision began to go black. Thorn was trembling; the earth beneath his body following suit. Raylena gritted her teeth and kept fighting.

It was over. The magic seeped away, and Thorn was still from it. Raylena gasped for air, sweat dripping from her brow. Glaedr had retreated again, and Saphira had followed suit, no doubt wishing to think over what had happened to the red dragon and not speak. Red dragon... he would live. But something was missing.

His Rider! She spun around quickly, scanning the field, and fighting the dizziness that enveloped her. Murtagh still lay where he had fallen. The agony of his dragon had overwhelmed his mind. She cautiously reached hers out to his, only to find her thoughts true. He had retreated so far into himself that his mind was a swirling vortex. She knew it well.

She pulled away from him mentally and then physically walked over and knelt down at his side. Rolling her eyes, she pushed him onto his back, then had to use magic in order to rearrange his arm from where it had twisted underneath him. A whispered phrase snapped the bones and joint back into order, and the use of magic helped clear her mind.

His face looked less strained then. She sat back on her heels and folded her hands in her lap, fighting the urge to draw him out of himself. That would do no good. Then she would have to engage him again. She didn't want to speak with him again.

He whispered something softly. She jumped and whipped out a knife, her heart skipping several beats. But no, he was still sleeping. She had never realized if he had ever spoke in his sleep. Then again, she had normally been unconscious, not asleep. She never remembered anything from those nights. Not even her name being spoken. Like now.

Wincing at the memory, she reached out a hand and tipped his face up. Thorn's blood had spattered over him, no doubt scarring his skin beneath the liquid. With a sigh, she moved her hand from the back of his head to the front, and murmured, "Waise heil."

The blood slid away, revealing the burn marks before they faded away. When it was done, she pulled her hand away, disgusted. How fate would twist and spin around. Raylena pushed herself to her feet, but before she could kick him she heard a shout from behind her.

She turned to see a Varden soldier sprinting towards her, waving dramatically. "My lady! Lady Raylena!"

_Lady? Oh, the daftness of men._ She waved in return, though didn't bother to move from her spot. It would only take another minute before he reached her, anyway.

When he did he staggered to a stop, panting, glancing around at the dragons and Murtagh before focusing his attention on her. "My lady! The city has been taken. I was sent by Lady Nasuada to tell you."

She smiled weakly at him. "Thank you. Would you be so kind as to return to Lady Nasuada and have her locate Eragon for me? I need him and the other elves to help me move the dragon. Saphira has done enough for today, and iLyara is too small. We're also going to need a horse. to move him."

"Yes, my lady," he saluted weakly and bowed before sighing and retracing his steps.

She couldn't help but grin. Poor man. Sent hither and yonder; he didn't even look as if he had taken part of the battle. He probably had just run back and forth between group captains. With a mischievous thought, she spoke another spell and sent the retreating man some energy.

He stumbled when it hit him and stopped running. He turned slowly around, and though she couldn't quite she his face she thought was he was smiling. She waved again, and after he returned to gesture he moved on, a new spring in his step.

Raylena smiled again before turning back to the man sprawled out at her feet. His mind was as it had been before. No change. Thorn was also asleep, poor thing. The magic had not come from her... he must have done or said something to Saphira.

_You _would _figure it out._

_What did he say?_

She hummed quietly and then told her. _To be honest, I think he said it on purpose to rile me up. Unlike last time, he wasn't attacking. Just defending. I think you would know more why that would be. _

Raylena dropped her head, shielding her mind except to speak. _I sent a runner back to Belatona to retrieve Eragon and the elves. They're going to bring a horse for Murtagh and help us move Thorn._

_Have they taken the city?_

_Yes. If necessary, iLyara can stay behind to wrap up loose ends. We wouldn't need all of the elves anyway. It'll work out._ She scuffed her boot in the dirt, fighting the urge to cry as the dragon's penetrating stare pierced through her. Keep going. Keep avoiding. Forget it. No need to tell her. _Can you find Eragon?_

_He's on his way. _She rumbled at the girl before nudging her with a wing. _You can't hide it forever._

The girl refused to look at her, and instead stared down at her feet. Finally she muttered something, then spun on her heel and strode back over towards the other dragon. Saphira blinked slowly at her back, then dropped her nose to Murtagh. She sniffed at him, wrinkling her nose at the pungent smell of blood and smoke. There was also a hint of magic; Raylena must have done something for him.

Ah, Raylena. The girl was a mystery still. More and more seemed to be fitting together, but from that only more spaces were created. She was a puzzle, one not to be solved easily. Hopefully Glaedr was doing something. If Saphira were older and wiser she would know how to help... but she was still young herself. A flash of irritation swept through her mind. There was nothing she could do, and even if there were something she didn't know what it was.

Then joy filled her. She stretched her wings out and focused all her attention on the young man who was running towards her. They hadn't been able to maintain full contact while fighting, especially since he had to coach iLyara through everything. But here he was. They were back together again. She bounced forward to meet him, tucking her head down his back as he wrapped his arms around her neck.

_Are you alright?_

He was worried. Before she could stop him, he dipped into Aren and fed her more energy.

Her tail twitched as it flooded through her. _Eragon, you should not have done that. We have time to recuperate. _

_Be that as it may, weariness is not so easily cured, especially when one is in pain constantly. How are you now?_

He knew, but she nudged him with her nose. _Better, thank you._

He nodded, but then his attention shifted to the right where Murtagh lay. As far as Eragon could tell, he was alive and breathing, but his mind was an abyss. _Did Raylena give an explanation for this?_

_He retreated into himself because of the pain,_ the woman interrupted.

Eragon looked to where she was, not noticing when he caught and held his breath. Thorn was still on his side, and aside from the obvious he seemed to be fine. One large, red eye opened to meet his gaze. Eragon stared at him, not sure what to think. Thorn blinked once, then with a sigh that shuddered his body he let his eye drop shut.

In several minutes Blodhgarm and some of the other elves where at Raylena's side. They were discussing something, no doubt a spell to use to transfer the body of the dragon somewhere they could keep an eye on him. He wouldn't be going anywhere in his present state anyway.

They finished and surrounded him, speaking in unison. Eragon watched as they lifted Thorn to his feet, supporting his body with magic while relying on his own strength to help him slink along the ground towards the city. Once he realized they would be fine by themselves, he turned back to Murtagh, trying not to look at the man's face. He might as well get it over with. "Audr!"

It wasn't too difficult draping Murtagh's body across the horse. With a sigh, Eragon pulled himself up behind his half brother's body to make sure it wouldn't slide off. Saphira managed to push herself off the ground and found enough of a wind to glide without exerting too much energy in flying.

In a matter of minutes, they were back in the city. Nasuada was waiting for them, though her face lightened in color when she laid eyes on Murtagh. "Is he alive?"

"Well," Raylena came up from behind, taking the horse's reins and motioning for Eragon to get off, "he's no where near dying."

Nasuada frowned at her, then turned her attention back to Jeod. "Show her to the prison, and make sure he is put under the tightest security possible."

"It will be done," he bowed, then held out a hand towards Raylena. "If you would follow me."

Raylena stepped carefully through the street, looking at Jeod's heels instead of the carnage around her. Battles were ugly affairs. She'd seen enough of death to last her a lifetime. She blinked, then glanced to the side. iLyara was walking beside her.

_I'm sorry you have to stay with him._

_No matter._

Stay with him? Only for a time... then she would be rid of him. She would never have to see him again, and any punishment he had coming was deserved. He had lied to her. He had lied. She hated him.

_Do you really?_

_Now you sound like Saphira._ They were at the prison gates. Jeod was giving instruction to several of the Varden soldiers. One of them tugged the reins of the chestnut from her hands, and Jeod, placing a hand on her shoulder, turned her away. But now before she met _his _gaze one last time as he blinked his eyes opened. She looked away, and winced at the thud she heard.

**I suppose I should write a dramatic thank you to the three people who reviewed, but I doubt Velveeta oozing through your screen would be welcomed. So thanks. ^_^  
(though personally... Murtagh's my favorite.)**


	21. Chapter Twenty One

**I killed my laptop's mouse. Thankfully, which some expert managing of the keyboard, I was able to save everything off of it. **

* * *

Murtagh groaned, the impassable wall in his head making it throb. When he tried to shift, shackles chained to his wrists and legs made movement nearly impossible. _Grea'... Thorn? _He reached out with his mind but wasn't able to locate any thought of his dragon.

Gritting his teeth, he tried to make himself more comfortable... _Drugs... mussuve drugged me._

_Of course they did, now hush._

_Wha-_

An iron fist clamped down on his mind. _If you don't shut up, there are those here who will hear you. You're deafening! Now, until you can control yourself I'M going to_.

_Lena?_

The door to his cell creaked open, followed by an annoyed "Ssh!" A soft word reached his ears, and he could sense the cloak of magic around the walls. "Lena..." He squinted, trying to focus; trying to see.

"Be quiet, Murtagh," Raylena hissed, shutting the door silently and creeping forward. She crouched down beside his limp form and felt for his hand. When she lifted it, Murtagh sensed an electric spark jump from her skin to his, and the iron cuff fell from his wrist and landed silently on the floor.

She repeated the process with his other hand and his feet, then placed a hand on his head. "This will hurt... be still."

Before he could react, what felt like a wave of fire swept through his mind, burning through the fog. He flinched and tried to withdraw from her, but she held tight to his shoulder with her other hand and pressed on. In another minute, the pain receded and he could think clearly.

Raylena collapsed down next to him, gasping for air, her body shaking. The grip that had been on his mind was something more powerful than anything he had ever felt. Well, aside from... no, he wouldn't think of it. The elves must have done something to him. He wasn't lurking in his mind at the moment. Blocked?

He stood to his feet and stretched, frowning down at the shape at his feet. What was she doing here?

_Fulfilling a promise once made to me._

Shame washed through him. Everything he had not done for her, and here she was anyway. With a sigh, he knelt down beside her and tucked her against his chest, ignoring her muttered protest. She was too weak to resist. It had been so many years since he had last seen her... everything that had happened to him seemed to melt away as he cradled her. His mind rebelled against the action, and vows and magic swirled back into him, stabbing deeply. She knew, and yet she had come.

"Don't thank me yet," she inhaled deeply and coughed the breath back out, though the trembling had finally ceased.

He should kill her. The thought both annoyed him and made sense. No, he had to think of something else. Had to keep himself focused. It was strange, being alone in his mind. Not only was the comforting presence of his dragon missing, but the other suffocating nuisance. He was alone in a corner. It was terrifying.

With a wince, he dropped his head down to her shoulder. At least he wasn't completely alone.

_You don't know what it means to be alone_.

He didn't reply but merely hugged her even tighter. _Have you not told anyone?_

_Who would understand?_

_What about his cousin's girl?_

_Katrina?_ She huffed out a breath and pushed against him, trying to free herself. _She knows nothing. What she feels she suffered is insignificant. She would only think she understands, and that is worse than empty words of comfort._ She paused in her thinking. _Oh, well, she's dead, too..._

Murtagh rasied an eyebrow. It was an offhand comment, very different from the girl he knew. _Dead?_

_During childbirth. I couldn't save her. She died, along with the baby. _Bitterness flooded, then receded. _It has passed. I'll forget easily enough, unlike other things..._

Murtagh nodded, frowning. He could imagine. He only wished...

_I know, Murtagh... I know..._ She had immersed herself in his mind while he was unconscious. All she had found were nightmares of regret, riddled with memories she had made herself forget. He was sorry. So was she, for putting herself through remembered agony to find out he was. It wasn't worth it.

She had wasted too much time. As much as she resisted, part of her had felt safe. Safe for a moment, wrapped in his arms. Like she always had felt safe. But now was it was time to leave. He had to leave. Again. Not his choice, like before. She had to make him leave.

Raylena pulled away as far as possible so she could shove him. "Let me go. You have to leave."

"Now?" Murtagh fought back a sigh but relaxed his embrace, allowing her to shift away from him. He stood up quickly and offered her his hand.

She blinked, then accepted the help, swaying slightly before she shook her head and balanced herself, tugging her hand out of his. "Come on."

They skulked around the prison, being careful not to awaken the guards who were asleep.

_What did you do?_

_Borrowed something from Angela. I know enough about potions. Still, you need to be quiet._

Murtagh smiled to himself as he followed her. Smiled. He hadn't smiled in months.

Eventually they reached a back entry. Raylena motioned for him to stand back in the shadows, and he willingly complied. She slid the door open and stepped through the crack, disappearing around the corner. Seconds ticked by in an enternity of silence before she leaned back around and waved for him to follow, though she once again cautioned him to silence, as if he were a child.

_I am older than you._

They were in a back street in Belatona. The only thing missing... _Where's my dragon?_

_Waiting for you._

He reached out a hand and gripped her shoulder. _Raylena, I remember enough. I have never felt so much-_

_Neither has he, and yet here you are thinking of yourself. Be patient. He's in more pain than you are._

Murtagh released her, staring at her back as she stepped forward. She would be of no use. The last thing he wanted to do was make her angry with him again. Her fury was something to behold... and frightening. Truly frightening. Galbatorix controlled and channelled his; hers blew wherever her mind did.

They crept through the streets, keeping to the shadows near the buildings. Several times Raylena had to cloak them with magic, but the trouble soon ended as they came to the rear wall of the city. To the right was the lake Leona, and to the left the beginning of the Spine raised in the distance, a deeper blackness to the horizon.

It didn't take long for them to find a way over the wall. After Raylena whispered a spell to make them transluscent, she led him away from the city in a sprint.

After another ten minutes or so or running, they came around a corner of the lake to a small thatch of trees that seemingly sprang up from nowhere on a ride near Leona. They came to a halt next to it. Murtagh gasped for air, his legs weak. There was nothing in his mind to strengthen him. Galbatorix must have removed them.

Raylena laid a hand on his shoulder, panting slightly, obviously in much better physical condition. Curse her. She was grinning at him, though it faded quickly. "Murtagh, I should warn you... Thorn..."

He could sense him, but he was still not permitting Murtagh to enter his thoughts. "What's happened to him?" All he wanted to do was rush to Thorn's side, but he resisted the urge. "Please, tell me," he covered her hand with his own.

She looked away, setting her jaw. "He survived, but at a cost. There is a reason you were completely overwhelmed. Thorn almost died, and you knew you could do nothing. There is nothing worse than a Rider's dragon dying. Why do you think Galbatorix is mad?"

"Raylena..." he moved his hand to her chin and tilted her face up, worry seizing his heart and leaving him even more paralyzed.

She finally met his eyes, but the tears he saw there did nothing to help. With a groan he pushed her away and strode into the glen, stopping only when he looked away from Thorn's eyes to his body.

The dragon was curled up on his side, his left foreleg tucked under his massive chest, where many of his scales were broken and scarred... though in the place his right foreleg should have been there was a stump. Skin and some soft scales had grown over the muscle and sinew, but there was nothing left. His dragon was maimed, and there was no undoing it. There was nothing he could do.

Murtagh stepped closer to Thorn, slowly reaching out to lay a hand on the leg. Thorn kept his head down and his eyes closed. Murtagh sank down next to it, gently rubbing the new scales that had grown over. The skin trembled, and finally he broke through Thorn's mental barrier.

The rush of agony and pain hit Murtagh so hard he had to wrap his arms around the leg to keep from falling over. And then he wept. The torrent of emotions was too much to bear. So much pain. Now he knew what she had meant... his mind was starting to fall away again. He dragged himself away from the dark reaches and focused on his friend. Oh, Thorn...

Murtagh opened his eyes to see red. Ruby red. Thorn's scales. His eyes felt strange, his mind wasted, and Thorn's mind was no better. The dragon hummed a baleful tune as Murtagh eased away from the battered limb and turned.

Raylena sat cross legged off to the side, staring, with tears streaming down her face. Murtagh blinked, then forced his stiff legs to unfold. He walked over to where she was and knelt down in front of her, clasping her hands. "Come with us," he whispered, willing her eyes to meet his.

Her breath caught in her throat as she slowly raised her eyes to his. He gently wiped her face with his fingertips, his heart reeling with the memories. Still, he knew what her answer would be. If only he could convince her otherwise... no, it wouldn't work. There would be nothing for her there. She would rather die than be dragged back, that he was sure of.

Unless they could escape... no, even now he could feel the scratching at the back of his mind. It had been there as the Twins had begun to wear him down. It had been there when he released himself to them, and then had flourished when he had been taken before Galbatorix.

There was nothing to be done. He sighed and leaned his forehead against hers, relishing in the simple touch. He had not felt anything since she... no, he couldn't think of that.

"I can't."

"They'll kill you for releasing me."

"They wouldn't dare. They need me too much to do that. Punish me maybe, but even then what could they do that hasn't already been done? I can handle anything Nasuada would do... I'm not sure she even could, considering she knows..." she trailed off and frowned, suddenly retreating behind her mental boundaries.

Murtagh regretted reaching out to her mind. He was feeling enough just be listening; he hadn't needed to go deeper. She glared at him, though it wasn't completely serious. In fact, he thought he recognized something else in her gaze as it softened. Something from long ago.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, leaning slightly closer, lips parted slightly

She pulled away abruptly and stood to her feet. He quickly followed, reaching out for her again, knowing that once she left he might never see her again. She slapped his hands away and turned her back. "Go! It's nearly dawn."

As Thorn lifted into the air, Murtagh looked down past his wing. Raylena was leaning up against a tree with her back to them, her shoulders jerking. Immediately his mind was overcome, and he pushed the thought of her away. He had work to do. One woman he had once known couldn't come between him and his duty.

_You still like her, don't you?_

Murtagh frowned, annoyed to be brought back to her. _Of course I don't. Not like that. She's nothing to me anymore; you know that._

_Then why did you just invite her to come with us?_

_She has plenty of information that could prove useful. _Anger welled inside him. _Leave me be, Thorn._

_As you wish._

The dragon fell silent. Murtagh fought back another bitter response. He had only been trying to be _nice_... had he not? Of course. He needn't question himself. She needed help, that was all... so much help. Help he wasn't able to give. _Not now, anyway..._ His thoughts turned sour as he remembered the screams. The hateful, stabbing screams. Perhaps help he needed himself.

No matter. He had no right to take it out on his dragon. What were they saying? Everything that had happened. Thorn began to hum, knowing what his Rider was thinking. He was forgiven.

* * *

***tear***


	22. Chapter Twenty Two

**Four more. I'll be nice. I wasn't sure if I should split the next few parts, but eh. It's done.**

* * *

Raylena covered her mouth with her hand, trying not to wail as the emotion swelled and coursed through her. Her shoulders started shaking as the downdraft from Thorn's wings sent a chill down her spine. Why had she released him?

She should have let him die. She sank to her knees long after he left. She was weary. It was too much. She couldn't bear it. With a sob, she dropped to her side and curled up, feeling like a little girl again. A foolish child. Yet she couldn't stop. She couldn't anything but cry, releasing the pain long kept locked away. She had forgotten so much, but reading his mind had drawn them out of her own. Too much. Too much.

Her heart wrenched. iLyara was somewhere in the distance, calling to her. But she shut her out. She didn't want to speak to anyone now. Too much. She couldn't forget. Would never forget now.

After some time, her mind retreated. Sleeping? Yes, she would sleep. Not like the elves, but not like the humans. That was her curse.

_"Halfling wretch!"_

_The hand slapped across her face, the biting voice forcing its way from Murtagh's throat, the mind moving his hands. He groaned on his own accord, clenching his teeth and fighting, still fighting. His shoulder jerked, then wrenched his fist around._

_Raylena sprawled backwards, helpless to protect herself. The blow had left her limp. A foot, and her ribs cracked._

_"You should have died with him!"_

_She cried out, squeezing her eyes shut as the blows struck. The mocking, tormenting voice driving her more mad as the days went past. Her love the tool._

_Stars danced before her eyes as his fist connected with her head when she tried to draw away. She fell down again, surrendering to it. The pain. Sooner or later it would be over. It always was. _

_But the words... the words echoed in her mind, sending her into a mental craze as she withdrew from her physical state. Her focus was on her mind. It was being wrenched apart as her body was being broken. _

_And then, she succumbed, drifting along in the endless river of agony, her mind detached from her body as he laughed and laughed, throwing her this way and that, lying to her. She wanted to die, but he wouldn't let her go. _Please...

_Fire. Fire burning and searing and hurting. It had to be over. She was going to die, whether he wanted her to or not. She would die, and then it would be over. She needed to die. He would be waiting, would he not?_

_But no... she was drawn out, back into the present. To die would be too good. Then they would be reunited. That couldn't happen. It would be too good for her. Too good. Nothing good. Not for her. She didn't deserve it._

_Her body ached. She moaned as she cracked open one eye to meet Murtagh's tortured stare. The other eye was swollen shut. He was still speaking, but somehow she still had enough strength to ignore him._

_Then it all faded. Murtagh was at her side in a heartbeat. He raised her body in his arms and laid her on the cot, weeping. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."_

_She squeezed her eye shut, trying to block out the pain. He murmured something in the Ancient Language, and her shattered arm snapped into place, wrenching a cry from her lips. Then her ankle was straightened. After that, everything was pulled back into place. _

_Murtagh tried not to scream as he ministered healing to her. A bruise the shape of his fist decorated her forehead. Everywhere else marks made by his hands and feet. She was trembling, tears dripping from her eyes as he worked on her._

_Somehow he managed to find the energy to heal and mend everything he had done. When it was over, he sank down next to her, struggling to stay conscious. He don't know how long he laid there, but at some point Raylena had turned and had tucked herself against his side. He stared at her. Her beautiful face was once again flawless, bereft of any injury or blood. But her mind..._

_She was starting to lose control. With a sigh, he shifted away from her and stood to his feet. Any minute now he would be dragged out of here. Better leave before while she was sleeping. _

_"Murtagh?"_

_He paused, hand on the door. Her voice was scratchy. He knew why; she had been screaming long after Galbatorix had released him and transferred all of his attention to her. He steadied his breathing and turned around._

_She was standing with her feet well apart, hand on the wall, struggling to keep her balance and focus on him. All he had to do was briefly touch against her mind to know it wouldn't be long before she would be completely gone. The worst thing was that Galbatorix would allow her to heal and regain control before starting again. Oh, she would still be tortured, but only a physical level._

_She stepped forward, stumbled, and fell back into his arms. He hugged her tightly, wishing he could help her. Someday he would. Someday he would get her away from here._

_"Don't leave me," she whispered, hiding her face in his shoulder. "Please don't leave me."_

_"I won't, Lena... I promise. I'll never leave you." He buried his face in her hair, hearing the sounds from outside the room. They were coming. _Not yet... please not yet._ He quickly drew back and tilted her face up. "Lena, I-"_

_He was cut short as the door was slammed open. Her face went white as she stared past him. Someone stepped around and pulled her away, even as she struggled, then threw her to the floor. Another pair of hands seized his arm and yanked, drawing him backwards and away. He tried to speak to her, but the clamp on his mind forbade it. All he could do was stare at her as she did at him until the door was shut._

She was consumed. They were piercing and striking at her. She tried to pull away, but she couldn't. She was helpless. Overwhelmed. Wouldn't stop. Couldn't make it stop. Needed it to. Too much. Too hard. Too painful.

_She was thrown to the ground. The blows weren't as hard for some reason. He was playing with her, driving her crazy. Her mind was sound. That was making her go insane. What was happening? This shouldn't be happening._

_"Lena, I-" He was cut off. striking her across the face. "Listen to me, I-"_

_She was scared. Something was going to happen. He wasn't upset, he was furious. She could feel it. What had been done to him? She didn't know him right now. He was never angry. What had they done to him?_

_"Murtagh." It sounded like a whimper. She was falling. Her head struck the stone, and she grew dizzy as she flung herself away from him. _

_A knife flashed, and pain seared down her jaw. She cried out in pain. Again and again it struck, cutting and drawing blood. Hurting her more than she had hurt before. She tried to stand; tried to move away, but she slipped. Her own blood._

_His arms were around her. She fought, kicking and smacking, before she realized he wasn't hurting her. The only pain was from her wounds. He was still, and she was settled against his chest. Safe. She was safe._

_He passed his hands over her, frantically sealing the cuts before she lost any more blood. "I... I..." he gasped for air, laying his hand on her face. "I can't." His eyes rolled back into his head, and he slumped to the ground._

_"Murtagh!" She dropped next to him, cradling his head in her hands. She refused to look as the door was opened. The door was opened, and men were around her. One wrapped an arm around her waist and lifted her up and away from him. "No! Let me go! Murtagh!" _

_Several of them were about him, counting, and then raising his body. After they had shuffled out she was thrown to the ground. Her face slapped against the stone, and the slice down her jaw burned. She had to stop the bleeding. What had happened to him?_

No, no. She knew were this would lead. No. She couldn't bear it. Stop! Stop it! She couldn't stop it. It was too late. Too late. Another.


	23. Chapter Twenty Three

**Eep.**

* * *

_Murtagh tipped her chin up, frowning as he studied the scar. "I'm sorry, I thought I had-"_

_"Do you not remember what happened?" She drew back, dropping her head, ashamed of it._

_He shook his, wishing she hadn't pulled away. He stroked a finger down the mark, earning a flinch and a glare. At least she was looking at him again._

_She reached up and took his hand, pulling it down to her lap. They were sitting on the cot, talking. No interuptions, no pain. Safe. "You were going to, and then you fainted. I've never seen anything like it. Your eyes..." she shivered, covering his hand with her other one. "I can't remember any spells; you know that. No one else was going to help me."_

_Murtagh raised his other hand and laid it on her face. "I'm sorry."_

_"Don't be." She tilted her head into his palm, sighed, and closed her eyes. "Everyone has scars."_

_Murtagh nodded, knowing she was only trying to make him feel better. He could allow her to do this one thing. _

_They were silent for several minutes, simply enjoying the other's company as much as they could. It had been too long since either of them had been able to just sit. Sit without any worries of what was going to happen next. To simply be. How long had it been?_

_Murtagh suddenly stood up and paced away. Raylena followed him with her eyes, her brow furrowed. "What's wrong?"_

_"I..." He stopped as quickly as he had begun, turning to face her with an old expression. Pain. What was hurting him?_

_"Oh, no," she tensed up and slid off the cot, backing away from him when he stepped forward._

_But then his face changed again. "No, not that. Don't worry, it's still me in here," he knocked on his head, trying to calm her down. _

_She only shook her head, her mind already starting to melt. _No, no... no, I can't. I'll die again. I can't. Not again. . No. _It sounded like a drum in her head._

_He reached out for her but she jumped away, pressing her back against the wall. "No, please, no." Her voice was nearing hysteria, her mind falling apart._

_"Lena, breathe. Slowly. Just breathe. It's me!"_

_She shook her head again, squeezing her eyes shut, her body tense as she anticipated the first strike. Her mind was already fading. It was too much to bear. She couldn't handle it. Not now. Not after all this. Not after being so calm, so simple. She couldn't. She'd die._

_She shivered when he gently took her by the waist. Murtagh held back a sigh, kept a calm, easy expression on his face, and just let his hands rest on her hips. Eventually she would look at him. Hopefully, anyway._

_Sure enough, after several minutes, her muscles started to relax. She cracked one eye open, then laid her hands on his arms. "Murtagh?" Her voice sounded so small._

_"It's me, I promise," he whispered, pulling her forward. "You're safe. Galbatorix isn't here, remember? He left. I told you that." _Though I would like to know where he went...

_"I remember. I'm sorry." She tilted her head back to look up into his face. "I guess I panicked."_

_He tentatively reached out with his mind, then almost groaned. It was already a mess, and nothing had even happened. She was balanced on the edge of sanity, and one little thing would be enough to send her over, apparently. One little thing. He would have to be careful. _

_He tensed again as she gently rubbed his arm. _

_"Are you alright?"_

_"Yes, I'm fine... I've just been thinking," he admitted, setting her away from him. He reached up to cradle her face in his hands before leaning down._

_He was so entirely captivated by her that he didn't hear the footsteps or the low voices. She was combing her fingers through his hair as he kissed her, completely overtaking his senses. He slid his arms around her waist, pulling her tight. He would never let them hurt her again._

Too late._ The voice echoed in his mind, and he jerked away with a gasp, twisting around. _He_ was standing there, his black eyes boring into them._

_Raylena began to trembl against him. Murtagh spun back and wrapped her in his arms, kissing her hair, shielding her from them. "Raylena, whatever happens I-"_

_"Will never be there," the clicking voice interupted. _Ra'zac!

_She cried out as he was yanked away and she was wrenched from his arms. "Murtagh!"_

_Chains were slapped to her wrists and ankles. He was pinned against the wall, unable to move. Tears filled his eyes, clouding his vision of her. "I'll come! I'll come for you!" He was sobbing it, trying to make her understand. Her terrified expression turned to one of horror as she was spun around._

_It was standing in front of her, staring at her. Her knees were weak, but magic held her straight. "You're coming with usss," it hissed, clicking its beak. "Asss our... guessst."_

_Her mind fell. Murtagh was shouting curses from behind her, somewhere. She didn't know. Everything became a blur as words were whispered into her ear. Then they were flying. So familiar. Torturous. She shrieked and faded into her mind._

She was screaming into her arms folded beneath her face. Screaming and screaming. No one to hear her. No one to help her. It was coming... it was all coming back. Screaming. The smell of blood. What had she done?

_Torment. Pain concentrated, the inhabiting her whole self. Her body and her mind. Sounds and voices and clicks and spells, around and around her. The beasts were there; they were always there. Hurting and driving her mad. She'd lost her mind long ago. All around her._

_Screaming. And screaming. Screaming more. Ever screaming. The only way to attack to reality was through her screams. If she screamed, she lived. If she didn't then surely she must be dead. So on and on she screamed, even when her voice failed._

_Her mind was gone. Shattered and ripped apart. Floating here and there, memories examined and used to torture her. She'd forget, then they'd come again. Beating and pulling at her until she was sure she would explode. Even then the pain wouldn't stop. It would only escalate. There would be a time, perhaps barely a minute, that she would lay gasping and heaving. Then it would all start agan._

_Her mind was going to die. She was sure her body already had. Nothing could hurt so much without killing her. She was dead, or she was nearly dead. She wanted to die. More than ever before. Die. Please._

_Except the song wouldn't let her. A song that permeated even the heaviest of agonies. A song that swelled through her mind and comforted her. No, she was dreaming. She was in a daze. There was nothing. Except that it helped. It was gone, but it never left. Back and forth, around and around. She would die if she didn't hear it. But she was already dead._

_Her mind shut down. Enough! Enough! _

_And then there was silence. Blessed silence. The pain began to ebb..._

_That's when he came._

_She saw him. And she screamed again. Screamed curses and hateful words. And he only stood there, taking it. Not one muscle in his face twitched. He stood there, and he didn't care._

_"You said you would come for me!" She flew at him, but the chains halted her attack. "I believed you!" Again she lunged. "I trusted you!" She flung herself again, but this time merely fell to her knees, not finding the will to voice her next thought. He didn't deserve to know anyway._

_He stood motionless still. Never speaking; barely any sign of breathing. She looked up at him, her face twisted with rage. "You never came! You never even _tried_!"_

_Then he was beside her. She struck at him with a fury, not even realizing how pathetic and futile her efforts were, weak as she was, and chained. "I hate you!"_

_Then he was gone. He was gone, and she hated herself. She collapsed to the floor, hearing the familiar sounds and knowing it would all come again... she raised her head weakly and squinted._

Then she blinked. iLyara was sitting next to her. She was still on her face, the smell of blood transferring to the taste of it on her tongue. She spat it out, then examined her arm. Teeth marks. She had bitten through her skin while trying to stifle her cries.

She glanced over at the dragon. iLyara sat very still. Too still. Where was Murtagh? Wait, gone. He had left. He always had to leave. He wouldn't come back. He never came back. She shuddered involuntarily, then whispered, "Waise heill," and watched as the wounds closed over. She wiped her arm on the grass to remove the blood, then stood to her feet, and swayed. It was morning.

iLyara nudged Raylena with her nose. _Eragon told me that he has spoken to Murtagh about his true name._

Raylena froze, reaching out a hand to steady herself on the dragon. _And?_

_I don't know what answer you would want from that. He knows. Have hope in that._ She raised to her feet and gave herself a shake. _Are you coming?_

_Later. I can't go back now._

The dragon blinked, then nodded her head. _Call for me if you need anything._

Raylena nodded, and then she left. Leaping into the air, she swept away. She was gone. She was alone... she was always alone.

* * *

**Yeah, yeah, I know what you're thinking... 'Paolini did that first!' Actually, I first wrote something about Murtagh being forced to torture a character shortly after ELDEST came out. Like, six years ago? So technically, Paolini copied me. Hah. And I promise, I really didn't read the last book until I finished the story. (minus the final edit)**


	24. Chapter Twenty Four

**I really don't have anything to say... I just wanted the cool line.**

* * *

Raylena didn't arrive back to Belatona until past midday. When Eragon heard she had been sighted, he stormed out of the city, trying to supress a growl. She caught his eye and managed a tired smile, which set him off guard.

"I have news for Nasuada," she said as she stopped in front of him. "Would you be so kind as to take me to her?"

"He's WHAT?"

Raylena winced. She had only rejoined the Varden for ten minutes, seven of which she'd had to endure Eragon's continuous scoldings; two of them had been used up in being let in to see Nasuada and exchange greetings, and the last for breaking the news that Murtagh was gone.

Nasuada slumped in her chair, head in her hands, and Eragon muttered a curse. Shrugging, Raylena folded her arms and relaxed her stance, willing her legs not to give out from the exhaustion she felt. "Yes, he's gone."

"How?" Her friend didn't bother to lift her head.

"I let him go." She crossed her arms and frowned. "Do you think keeping him locked in a cage in a fog would do anything to change his name?"

"His name, what does that have to do with anything?" Nasuada started pacing, glaring repeatedly at her friend. "He was a threat. _We were going to take care of that threat._"

Eragon shifted his gaze between the two women, a pit forming in his stomach. It was bad enough when one woman was mad; two of them together could be horrific. Especially now that bringing up a hint of Murtagh's execution was enough for Raylena's entire mind to inflame.

"His true name, Nasuada." Raylena clenched and unclenched her hands, matching her friend's glare. "In a fog, he would be nothing. _Nothing._ Of no use to us; just another brilliant mind succumbed to darkness. Not to mention the last male dragon."

She held up a hand when Nasuada tried to speak. "Don't interrupt me." Her eyes were nearly alight with fire, and for once she was obeyed. "Everyone has a true name. Even you. If someone were to find out your true name, then they could control you. There is no magic in the world powerful enough to defeat the nature of a Name."

"I still don't see how _letting him go_ is going to solve this problem." Nasuada crossed her arms and arched an eyebrow.

Raylena mimicked her position. "He's gotten more and more disgusted with Galbatorix. If he remains with him long enough, there is a chance that something inside him will change. If it is enough, then his name will change."

Nasuada frowned. "Won't Galbatorix know if Murtagh's Name changes?"

Following a shrug, Raylena's shoulders drooped. "We can only hope that he won't, or that if he does, it will be so miniscule to him that he won't be able to know."

After some more debate and a lengthy lecture from Nasuada, Raylena was finally allowed to leave the building and wander away into Belatona. Through it. Far through it, and far away from it. Her mind was spinning, spinning so rapidly she thought she was regressing. To what? To whom? _No, stop it_. Too many memories. Push them back.

She sucked in a sharp breath and fought to focus. _Focus, focus._ She had to keep focus, or it would be her undoing. Focus. Focus. It became a rhythmic chant in time with her footsteps, increasing as she began to run. Running past the phantoms lurking in the streets; soldiers and folk who would only stare. And stare they did. No matter what she did, they stared.

_Focus. Focus._

Her frantic dash took her North, away from the city and towards the rolling hills. The moutains were but a wisp of a cloud on the horizon; how she longed to be in their shadowy embrace. Solitude. She had been so accustomed to solitude; she had wanted to be rid of it. Now it was her escape. Escape! That's what she needed.

_Focus!_

Her breaths were coming in gasps; she was crying? She hadn't even noticed. The earth began dipping. Good. She staggered to a stop and leaned over, panting and sobbing. Why was she crying? She was in control. There was nothing to fear out here. Nothing to fear... except the silence. Her knees buckled, and she gladly dropped to the earth, her body worn out from the last few days.

Saphira stared down at the small, tired form before her. She had found Raylena several hours ago sitting in the little knoll, staring at the ground. She hadn't even acknowledged the dragon's presence. Normally Raylena would at least make a face at her, then retreat back into her own mind. Right now Saphira couldn't even locate the exact formation of her mind. And from what she could find, it was troubled.

It emanated from her entire being. She was sick- but of what, Saphira couldn't tell. She had almost thought Raylena would open up to her, but perhaps not today.

_You know, I _can_ hear you._

She snorted smoke. _It's rude to listen. _Saphira leaned down to rub her nose against the girl's hair. Raylena jerked and scrambled away from the dragon, landing on her posterior.

_Don't do that. Don't ever do that._

Saphira wrinkled her nose and stared down at her, willing Raylena to meet her gaze. The girl remained in her position, hugging her stomach tightly. She worried Saphira sometimes. Whenever they spoke, it was as if there was a haze running throughout the girl's mind. A cloud of confusion, with so much power running through it. But still confusion. Too much confusion. More of it now.

Raylena shuddered and rocked off her knees so she could draw them up to her chest. She hid her face in them; and for another few minutes the two sat again in silence. Her heart ached. It had been so long...

_Saphira?_

_Yes?_

_There's something I need to tell you._

Saphira bobbed her head while kneading the earth with her claws, after which she settled down and blinked once. _I'm listening._

* * *

**Story time!**


	25. Chapter Twenty Five

**Nooow it's getting good. IMPO.**

* * *

She had long since been wrapped in the dragon's wings. A sheltered, impenetrable embrace. Such beauty. Raylena squinted through her tear-swollen eyes as the setting sun filtered through the gap as Saphira shifted. Had she been asleep? She remembered nothing; just heart-wrenching agony and then... peace. Like she hadn't known in years.

She swayed as she stood to her feet and stepped from the webbed cocoon, and found herself face-to-face with Eragon. The look on his face was so comical that a laugh escaped her. When she realized he didn't understand nor join in her mirth, she laughed even harder until tears started flowing again.

"You... you..." She was giggling like a madwoman. But mad she was; no question about it. She couldn't stop.

He cleared his throat awkwardly, red from the tip of his nose to his ears. "I'm sorry, I-"

"N-nothing," she gasped out. "Forgive me, I..." she doubled over in another bought of hilarity, sobbing along with it, her body wracking with each gasp.

Eragon swallowed hard and tried to regain some of his composure. "Ah, it's fine..." _Saphira?_

_Be happy, Eragon. I don't think she's laughed like this in years._

Eragon raised an eyebrow. _Years? Don't you think that's a bit of an exaggeration?_

_She smiles, but she is not happy. Not really. _

_We all have pain._

_But everyone's pain is different and hurtful to them, even if we may find it trifling. You saw how she behaved while speaking to Nasuada about Murtagh._

He chose to ignore her last statement. _Is it trifling?_

_Not in the least._

The longer he looked at her sitting on the ground, trying to control her laughter while leaning up against Saphira, the more Eragon felt a softening towards her. She was weeping? They all had their demons, did they not? He didn't even know; the least he could do was try to feel pity. And if what Saphira said was... he shivered as he quickly dispelled the thought. He didn't want to think of it.

Raylena finally managed to keep her laughter to a trembling smile and scrubbed at her eyes, shuddering and trying to contain the explosion of emotions. Eragon held out a hand to help her off the ground. "May we give you a ride back to Belatona? It's getting late; we should be getting back.

She smiled back up at him. A bright, genuine smile as she took his hand. "My pleasure."

Saphira started humming as Raylena skillfully climbed onto her back, settling in the seat behind Eragon. She stretched her wings and shook herself, earning some cheerful complaints. No matter.

She reached out her mind to the girl. _Are you ready?_

A heartbeat. Two. Three. _Yes._

Eragon grinned happily as they coasted through the air, the familiar whipping of his hair by the wind bringing a level of comfort to his world. Raylena held on tightly to him, though he could feel her shifting as she twisted back and forth to stare out over the view.

_It really is something, isn't it?_

He sensed an affirmative answer. Something at least. Most of the time she ignored him, unless she was angr-

_Yes. It is. It's so beautiful. _The wistful tone held something deeper. Sorrow?

_Have you ever been on a dragon before?_

She was silent. Eragon regretted asking. The first time she had actually responded in a conversational way, and he had blown it out of the water. He was no better than an immature schoolboy. He felt her sigh, then the weight of her forehead as she dropped it to his shoulder. He shivered.

_Yes. I have. A long time ago..._

Her thoughts swirled. Big, mighty, and stunning. So beautiful. Yet so long... she wasn't sure she was even remembering right.

They flew around longer than needed, wasting time and watching the sun set. Not another word was exchanged, but Eragon was content. He was determined to break down her walls and earn her trust; her friendship even. He was determined to help her, for he now realized she needed all the help she could get.

Reluctance flowed from Raylena's mind as she slid of Saphira's back and after giving the dragon a pat began to walk away. Eragon smiled to himself as he followed suit. "Do you want to help me rub her down? She gets saddle sore sometimes, and since it's been a while-"

"Oh, _yes_," she breathed, interupting him as she turned a shining gaze to him. Stepping around him, she retraced her steps.

He shook his head. There was something unusual about her... she could go from being such an age, care-worn woman to a child-like girl. It had slowed, but now it was back.

Raylena stood in front of Saphira, cloth and oil in hand, but she couldn't move. Her mind was still. Completely still. She couldn't think anything at all. It was too much. Too much. Emotions repeating as thoughts? No, that's not even coherent. Or possible. Was it?

A shiver crept down her spine as she inhaled the fragrance wafting up from the bottle. So familiar, as if she should remember. But she couldn't. Didn't want to. Too much, too much. Everything within her screamed to run away, but all she could do was stand there helplessly. So helpless. She was good at helpless.

Eragon eyed the woman in bemusement. She never ceased to puzzle him. With a shrug, he set about getting his dragon taken care of. If Raylena wanted to stand rooted there lost in thought, she could. It made no difference to him, and he wasn't going to bother about it. She probably wasn't even thinking about anything important anyway. Just something about how she would smell like the mixture after the task was done, no doubt. Or-

Saphira's chortle interupted his thoughts. She blinked at him, smiling in her dragon-like way. He frowned. _What did I do this time?_

_Nothing, little one._ She rumbled another chuckle before falling silent.

* * *

**Oh, Eragon...**


	26. Chapter Twenty Six

**So I'm back. Yippee. Was visiting family and had no way of uploading more... my notebook is currently being fixed somewhere off in the blue yonder. I miss it.**

* * *

_He rubbed his nose against her hair, then snorted._ Oh, come on. It isn't that far, and we'd be back within a few hours! He hasn't let us go anywhere fun in over a year!

You know the reason for that. Our training is important.

Yes, yes... You always say that. But you still think otherwise.

_She slammed her book shut, and spun around to wave a finger in front of his nose. "I do not!"_

Yes you do! You and I 'share the same mind and thoughts', remember?_ He settled down in front of her and dropped his head onto his folded forelegs. _Come on!

No. We are supposed to be studying, not wandering around.

We've _been _studying! All we've done the entire time we've been together _is _study!

_She frowned, focusing on a scale to keep her mind focused. "No."_

_He blinked once, then twice._ We're going to be old before we get to do anything fun.

_"No." Her resolve was weakening. He was right; all their teacher had ever let them do alone was fly once to his favorite berry patch to get some fruit for dinner. And that had been who-knows-how-long ago. She was a good student. They both were. _NO!

_He blinked again, releasing his "sadness" from his mind until it cloaked the room in a thick cloud._

_With a groan, she dropped her head into her hands. One time couldn't hurt... _

Raylena awoke with a start, gasping her air, sweat covering her entire body. So long ago. So buried. Yet here it was, at the forefront of her mind. A nightmare. She shuddered and rolled over, squinting at the rays of lights filtering through the cloth of the tent. Morning?

It had to be. No, it was still the night. It wasn't bright enough to be morning. With a groan, she dragged herself to her feet and staggered over to the entry to look for herself. Sure enough, she was right. The moon had just rotated in the sky and caught her tent perfectly. Still night. Still dark. Still suffocating black. Like always.

Her body ached. Why? Oh- nevermind. She remembered. She remembered it all. It was something she did- not healing herself. Physical pain kept the mental at bay. She thought telling Saphira had helped. Perhaps not. It should have. Shouldn't it? She had be told that's how it would, but her thoughts had turned again.

Yesterday, someone had leaked the information that Murtagh had been let go. It hadn't been said _who_ had released him, but plenty of the Varden were already scared of her and thought her mentally deficient. This incident, even though they hadn't been told it was her, hadn't helped at all. They never would trust her. Not that it mattered, but still... to be feared was taxing.

_Murtagh._ With a shiver, she walked back to her bed and managed to lay back down without stretching her aching self too far. Once she was settled, she closed her eyes again, trying to forget him. Too much to think about. Too much forgotten. She didn't want to go through it all again.

Finally she drifted back off to her sleep. But instead of sneaking around, her dreams were filled with shadowy pain.

The next morning, Eragon started a search for Raylena. Unfortunately, before he could get anywhere, the routine 'let's go see the wounded and help them' task interrupted him. He was impatient. Something had happened between her and Murtagh on the battlefield; Orrin had told him as much. They had gotten separated, and for a while only spoke. She had then become enraged, and they had fought... that is, until Saphira had somehow managed to dismember the Thorn, even while being worn out. To use magic in a battle!

Something was wrong. It troubled his mind; Saphira agreed. Rather readily. Of course, once he had started pestering her about it she had gone silent. She wouldn't even tell him if she had sworn to silence in the Ancient Language, though the look in her eyes alluded to it. Perhaps Raylena had also made her swear not to tell if she had sworn. She would think of that.

_Bah!_ He could go around in circles forever. However, he had reached the sick tent. Time to focus. Nasuada was waiting, and Blodhgarm stationed himself by the entrance after appearing from somewhere behind Eragon. He was wasting his time; he couldn't make a dent in the number of woe-begotten men. However, he meekly followed his leader into the tent, squeezing the handle of Brisingr to keep from screaming while forcing a neutral expression.

Several hours later, Eragon staggered into his tent, ready for a nap. He had used all of his available energy helping as many of the sick and wounded as possible without tapping into the belt of Beloth or Aren. Saphira had helped as much as she could, but Eragon had finally put a halt to it all, apologizing to Nasuada but telling her it was just too much.

So he was back in his own corner of the world. Blodhgarm had vanished again, so for the first time today he was alone with his thoughts. How he enjoyed it. Not having to worry about seeing anybody. Just alone with his thoughts.

Something told him Raylena would disagree, but the idea hadn't come from himself. He lifted his head and frowned at Saphira. _Why do you say that?_

_She's been alone for the past few years, Eragon. So very alone._

_How does Murtagh fit into this?_

She hesitated, then dropped her head.

Eragon crossed his arms. This was ridiculous. _She _did_ make you promise not to tell me, didn't she?_

She winked at him. _Finally, you're learning. I'm sorry Eragon; if I could share this burden with you I would._

_Burden? Is it that bad?_

She rumbled in her throat. He sensed her licking her claws to clean them, determined that they were still filthy.

_Do you think she'll ever tell me?_

_Perhaps. But don't wish so desperately to know._

Raylena sat on a rock near Leona Lake, staring at the water. The dream the night before and the few minutes she had been awake afterwards were now hounding her, spinning in circles through her mind and driving her insane. She tucked her knees up to her chest and dropped her forehead down.

More memories tormented her. Things long locked away were suddenly resurrected and at the forefront of her mind. It was all Murtagh's fault. She should never had told Saphira. It was all too late now; she was lost. It was all back. She supposed that she had never fully escaped from it all; the days spent under the spells had merely suffocated her ability to think. She still couldn't, not really.

Around in circles. She sighed and curled her hands over her head, clutching fistfuls of her hair, trying not to scream. She had forgotten what he even looked like. Now she remembered as if he were standing before her. She could never forget again. She groaned and shook her head, then impusively tipped herself forward into the water, the sudden rush of cold startling her mind and making her body react and move.

She clenched her jaw shut, fighting the brief thought of sucking in water. She swam down to the bottom, letting her body rest down on the sand. She flipped over and laid down on her back, staring up at the blurred sky, letting her body relax. It was so peaceful. She had known an elf once who had become a fish and disappeared. She envied him. To be so alone and so quiet, drifting through the murky depths with magic to keep oneself safe from predators- the thought was joyous. Unfortunately, she couldn't stay down

She pushed off the dirt and kicked furiously. The rush of adrenaline made her feel alive. Her vision started to blacken at the edges, spreading towards the center until she broke through the surface and gasped for air.

* * *

**W00t.**


	27. Chapter Twenty Seven

Eragon was staring off into space. Saphira was sleeping in the sun, the remains of her last meal starting to boil and cook in the sun. He scanned the waters edge, squinting as his eyes passed over a small shape on the far side. He stood to his feet and shielded his eyes. _Raylena?_

He jumped lightly off the rock and started walking in her direction. He wondered what she would be doing; she had crossed back over the Jiet River, most likely looking for solitude. Perhaps this was his chance to speak with her. She had started warming up to him before the battle, and they had even shared some special moments.

He had begun to smile before he stumbled to stop. Where had she gone? She wasn't clumsy enough to fall into the river, unless she- _NO!_

He burst into a sprint. She couldn't be so far gone that she wouldn't want to continue living.

It wasn't long until he had crested around the side of the lake, leaped across the river, and made his way to where she had been sitting. He stopped abruptly, removing his blade so it wouldn't be tarnished. He was just about to dive in when she broke through the surface, gasping.

He caught one of her flailing hands and pulled her upwards onto the rock. She coughed several times, laying on her arms, the rest of her body still submerged in the lake. She lifted one hand to brush the water away from her eyes and peered up at him. "What are you doing here?"

"I was with Saphira... I saw you, and then you vanished. I wasn't sure..." He trailed off, feeling suddenly sheepish at the absurdity of the situation.

She frowned briefly before understanding lit her eyes. "You thought I would..." she frowned again. "Believe me, Eragon. Life is far too precious a thing for anyone to consider such a choice, no matter what their life may hold." She pressed her palms down on the rock, pushing herself up.

Without waiting for permission, Eragon hooked his hands under her arms and lifted her up, saving her from the effort. She glanced up at him with a brief smile, reaching up to wring her hair out, forcing her lungs to relax and breathe deeply, though not stepping away from him. His hands still hovered.

She was a lovely sight, especially soaking wet. He couldn't help the smile that spread across his face as he watched her dry herself off using magic. She muttered some spells, and her clothes and hair instantaneously drying as she murmured the different phrases. When she was finally finished she began combing her fingers through her hair, untangling the long mess.

Eragon stood silently until she looked at him again. When she did, she surprised him with a bright smile. "How is Saphira?"

"She's doing well... she just needed a day's rest. I believe Thorn put her mind under great stress."

"Plenty of stress. I didn't do anything to Thorn; the magic came solely from Saphira."

"She told me that he said something to her..." Eragon trailed off, clenching his fists, feeling the slight stab of pain again." "Do you...?"

She shook her head, awkwardly staring down at her feet. "I wish I knew, but she didn't tell me. I refused to let Murtagh speak with Thorn; if he told Murtagh, it was later."

Eragon nodded, sighing.

They stood in silence, gazing over the sparkling water. After a few minutes of silence, Raylena reached over and took his hand gently. "You're just going to have to give her some time. Either she will tell you or she will not. Trust her in her decision."

"Raylena, you don't understand. With the bond we share, we shouldn't be keeping secrets."

Her hand went limp in his. "I understand more than you know," she whispered, a dark look crossing her face.

He glanced over at her, somewhat unsure of how to respond to the statement. She sighed and turned to face him, and that's when he saw it. The line followed her jar, an ugly dark brown, perfectly clean and straight. Only a calculated cut from a blade could inflict such a scar.

Her eyes widened as soon as she realized what had happened. She'd forgotten the water would wash away the mixture that covered the mark. With a murmured apology, she fled.

Eragon stared after her.

Raylena quick-stepped through the camp, extending her mind further than she had before, desperate to find the herbalist. For some reason, she had been unable to find Angela's tent before. It had been too long since she had spoken with the older woman, and she needed to speak with someone whose brain was as erratic as her own.

After another few minutes of searching, she found a tendril of thought that was quite elusive. It felt familiar, like something from a dream. She turned slightly, letting her back rest up against the fabric of the tent to her left, sliding around with a knife drawn. She inhaled deeply, then counted to three silently before leaping around and thrusting. A deep voice protested, betraying the small figure.

The small child's liquid, violet eyes stared up at her own, glaring. The strange feeling emanated from the creature, setting her on edge. Raylena frowned. _Who are you?_

"My name is Elva," she crooned, crossing her arms tightly over her chest.

"Why have you been following me?"

"I sensed your mind the first day you arrived. It is strange and twisted; I can't feel your emotions." She reached up a hand and brushed her bangs aside, revealing the shiny mark.

Raylena stiffened, recognizing the magic from a dragon. "You have been given a gift."

"A curse. Eragon adjusted the terms of the spell so I could control it." She frowned. "With you I am unable to detect anything. There is an abyss behind your wall."

"As well as there should be, in order to keep prying minds out." Raylena's eyes narrowed. "Such as yourself. Do yourself a favor and stay away from me, Elva."

"We are not so different," the voice whispered to her back. "Perhaps you will see."

Raylena shook her head, choosing to ignore the witch-child and instead focus on the strange scent she had smelled. Forget using her head; her nose would be enough to lead her to Angela.

It didn't take but another minute before she stepped into the tent and inhaled deeply. The smell was a strange mix of different things. Not unpleasant, but not offensive either. She opened her eyes and grinned back at the smile Angela was beaming in her direction. "Hello, Angela." Already her mind was comforted, thoughts of Eragon and Elva distanced.

"Goodmorning, Raylena! What brings you here? Roasted inchworm? Frog feet? Urgal's nose hair?"

Raylena laughed, unable to contain herself. "Nothing of the sort. I just wanted to talk to you."

"Anything in particular?"

"Something to distract me for a while," she smiled ruefully.

And distracted she would be. The herbalist's bizarre wit had her laughing until she was sniffing back tears. Solembum had wandered in at one point, and even the werecat had an uncanny sense of humor that left her mind reeling. They were an unmatched pair, yet without each other the other seemed incomplete.

After a time, the jokes began to slow. Raylena was sitting and shredding some leaves for Angela. The smell lingered on her skin, a forest green that left her mind feeling peaceful. She grinned up at Angela, simply happy for the time being. It was good to be happy.

Angela was knitting, as usual. Solembum was curled up near a boiling cauldron, his tail lazily flicking back and forth. Raylena finished the last leaf and sighed, content.

Angela raised her head and smiled, her hands flying with her even looking at the task. "Now then, what is it you really want to know about?"

"Elva."

The herbalist frowned. "You've met her?"

_She's been following Raylena for some time now. She believes their minds are alike. Which they aren't, but the child still wishes for someone to understand her._

"That is a wish I could never comply with," Raylena crossed her arms tightly over her chest. "She is an unearthly being and nothing like me."

"Don't be so sure, my dear." Angela stilled, picking up the work and frowning as she scrutinized it. "Not as much as Elva should like, but enough to make her want to know you."

"Couldn't you tell her to leave me alone?"

"Of course. Whether or not she will listen is entirely up to her."

"Thank you." Raylena poked at the shredded plant, wondering what it could possibly be used for. "What exactly did Eragon do to her?"

"He placed a spell on her that made her a "shield" for suffering. His intention was for her to be "shielded", but he didn't have the best grammar back then. He managed to reverse it partially, but the effects still remain. At least she is now in control of it."

Raylena nodded slowly, gazing at the small fire beneath the large pot. Solembum stood to his feet, stretched, and walked over to where she was sitting.

_How have you been sleeping, my dear?_

_Very well... you did something, did you not?_

_I did. If it bothers you, I can remove it._

_No..._ She smiled down at him as he curled up on her foot. _It is appreciated._

_Good._

Raylena sat a few minutes longer before she nudged the werecatoff her foot and stood. "Thank you, Angela."

"Say hello to iLyara for me," was the only response she was given. Angela was staring at what she held, frowning and muttering before undoing several of the twists.

Raylena smiled to herself before she stepped out into the cool night air, reveling in the chill that swept out from the lake. She shivered as the slight breeze filtered through her cloths, nipping at her skin. There had been times before when she had been cold... but there had been so much else, and she hadn't ever noticed the freezing temperatures.

Another shudder went down her spine, though this time it came from within. She crossed her arms tightly over her chest as she retraced the wandering steps she had taken to find her friends. The long walk might settle her mind and allow her to fall asleep without any trouble.

Her dreams were cursed again that night.


	28. Chapter Twenty Eight

_Raylena slipped out of her room and jumped lightly up the stairs. She grinned to herself. Their escapades had stirred in her a deep desire to be free. Free from the restraints of this life. She loved Oromis, but she was held too tightly. He still wouldn't let her out of his sight. At least _he _was allowed to go some places..._

_She shook her head and strapped the slender hunting knife to her belt as she skipped out into the crisp night air. The forest was darkly alive at night. It was so beautiful._

Are you ready? _He nudged her, then rubbed his nose in her hair. _

_She stretched up a hand to scratch his chin, loving the familiar feel of the scales under her fingertips. _Ready when you are.

Then what are you waiting for?

_She grinned and leaped up onto his back, strapping her legs into the saddle, then sighing in contentment as he jumped off the ledge of their home, a tall building high up a tree, built for a Rider. _

_He waited to strike his wings down until he had glided far away from the city, skillfully locating the updrafts. It wasn't until they were clear that he began to flap, the power in his wings surging through her with every downbeat. Raylena laid forward on his neck, hooking her arm around a spike to keep herself from sliding and ripping her hips out of place._

_He corckscrewed, earning a yelp and a slap. His chuckle rumbled through her mind, and after a minute of sulking she couldn't help but join him in his mirth. _What if I had slipped?

You would not have fallen.

I could have gotten hurt.

You could have healed yourself. You are more proficient than for what he gives credit.

Yes, but I can always do better._ She frowned, wishing he had not brought up the subject of their training. This was supposed to be their escape, not another time to think about it._

Forgive me, dear heart_, he whispered balefully, feigning sorrow._

_Once she smiled again, he whipped up into a climb, soaring higher and higher until she could barely catch her breath. She managed to cough out a spell that encased oxygen. She couldn't hold it for very long, but it took them high enough for an exhilarating dive. She was just starting to lose it and knew she would soon be unable to stay conscious when he tipped down, and the world became a blur._

_She couldn't breathe. And she loved it. The wind struck her in the face, nearly ripping her skin off. He blew out a tunnel of flame and sailed down through it, careful to keep his wings around her so she wouldn't be singed. The heat combined with the rush made her head spin._

_She let out a whoop when gravity lost control as he began to spin. Around and around. Her breath was snatched from her lungs again. The forest and stars ran together in a beautiful mix of lights and murky colors. He growled, fighting the urge to roar and wake the forest up._

_Raylena finally got her wits about her and squinted as she watched the forest come barreling towards them. Closer and closer, until it would be a mere seconds before they crashed and died. That was when he flashed out his wings, halting himself in mid-air. The strain pained him greatly, but the rush was too glorious to forego._

_They coasted back up, though not to the height of before. She gazed over Du Weldenvarden, ignoring the tug on her conscience. Always it was now that she felt guilty. She pushed it aside, and then forgot. It wasn't hard anymore. _

_After some more time had passed, she began to yawn. He twisted his head around and winked, then turned back in the direction of Ellesmera. _Sleep, dear heart. I will wake you when we are home.

_She stretched herself back down on his neck, using the strap she had brought to tie herself down. She wrapped her fingers around a spine, the smooth, solid feel a comfort. Then she slept._

When she awoke, she was covered in sweat. Always it was linear. Why did it have to take so long? She would rather it just be over with. She squeezed her eyes shut, fighting back the newly-risen memory. She rolled over, putting her back to the slit in the tent that she hadn't noticed before. She could fix it in the morning. As much as it hurt to remember, the feel of the night air brushing her back was strangely regular. She remembered it.

* * *

**Aaaaaand there it is.**


	29. Chapter Twenty Nine

**Proof I am sickly fascinated by Mary Sues. An un-would-be writer's epidemic.  
**

* * *

They had left Belatona weeks ago. The summer had slowly started fading into winter, and the nights were now cold. Those lucky enough to escape sentry duty were huddled under the little they had brought to tend to their own personal comforts. Traveling along the lake had included an ever-present wind that whistled through armor and chilled a man to his bones.

Eragon sat on Saphira, his eyes shut as she coasted over the lake. The rocky terrain had made traveling by foot arduous. It was taking longer than planned, and they were running low on supplies. Grumbles were starting to filter through the camp as the soldiers realized the severity of their situation. Too many had already defected. More were planning it, but the spell casters and elves easily routed out the guilty parties and had managed to _convince_ them otherwise.

He didn't think it was right, but what else could they do? If they didn't do something there soon wouldn't be an army with which they _could_ fight the Empire. It simple would not do. Unfortunately, Raylena had bluntly refused to help. The thought of manipulating others had not made the halfling happy, though she politely held her tongue from criticism. Nasuada had been furious and Eragon had then had to sit and listen to a tirade from Nasuada about the "impossibly stubborn" woman.

Saphira chuckled. _Stubborn is the perfect word._

_I'm sure you understand why she would decline._

_Of course. However, she is still very stubborn._

_We all can be sometimes._

He agreed, opening his eyes and squinting. _Saphira... is that what I think it is?_

She was silent for a brief time. _Yes, I do believe it is._

Nasuada was pleased with the news. She clapped her hands, summoning the Nighthawks, and commanded that the word be spread that Helgrind was visible on the northern horizon. It was a happy sighting for all but one.

Raylena slumped to the earth, oblivious to the movement around her as the eight letters swirled through her, laughing at her. Her mind was blank. She knew they would be close, but to finally be forced to admit that she would have to see it again... a chill ran up her spine and into her heart. No. She couldn't think of it. Not yet. Not ever. Couldn't handle it. Not now. Not ever. No.

And not even as she stood at its base, staring up. The army had camped around the southern eastern half of the mountain, concealing themselves from Dras Leona. The city was complacent; too arrogant in its assumption that the little army from Surda could possibly do any harm. Still, the want for stealth won out, and as far as any of the magicians knew they had arrived undetected by all but the black giant towering over them.

She was trembling when Eragon found her. She was kneeling at the very edge of the mountain's rocky face as it reached upwards, leaving the grass and earth beneath. She jumped when he approached, her eyes wild as she gasped, her chest heaving.

He held out his hands, trying to calm her down. "Raylena..."

"Take me up."

_What?!_ He stared blankly at her.

She swallowed hard and stood to her feet, her entire body now shaking. "Take me up."

_Eragon._

He glanced behind them. Saphira nodded.

Raylena clenched her fists as she stepped down lightly onto the cool sand. The smell. Oh, the smell. It awakened her senses and brought a sense of normality to her scattered mind. She was insane. She forced her feet to move, clutching the lantern she had brought. The light made it seem different. More eerie. She was insane. She ignored the beasts that were lying dead, their carcasses rotted.

Eragon trailed a few steps behind, determined not to let her out of his sight. She didn't acknowledge him, but he didn't care. He knew where she was going. It was where he had placed both of the bodies: in the nest. He had to choke out a spell to clear the air so he could breathe. If she hadn't done the same then he had no idea how she was still alive. The stench was worse than he remembered. Why had he agreed to come? He wrinkled his nose and stepped around a darker patch of earth.

She stopped before it, her heart beat the only thing she heard. The twisted, decayed forms were nearly gone. She stared, her mind slowing. They were dead. For everything they had done, they were dead. Yet they were still there; the flesh was vanishing but _they_ were still there. She could still feel them. With a shudder she turned away and slipped down the small tunnel adjacent, her small, wearied mind determined.

Eragon's eyes widened as she disappeared. He hurried to where she had been standing and facing the wall. No doubt more magic, just like the entrance. He stepped forward, aware of Saphira's quiet lament at not being able to do anything for her.

Her steps were dragging as she approached the open room. The sight of it nearly sent her mind into a crashing oblivion. But she couldn't withdraw into herself. She had to focus. Had to conquer. She groaned and covered her face with her hands. What was she thinking? She stood motionless, barely away of the time passing. She could sense him still behind her, mimicking her frozen state. Such a good heart. The thought of him gave her a flicker of courage, and she opened her eyes, tears soon blurring the image.

Eragon's heart felt like it was being ripped in two. The instruments that decorated the room were enough to make him sick to his stomach. There was a shelf with bottles and bowls, and a book. Curiosity overtook his good sense. He stepped forward, read several lines, then raced his thoughts back to Saphira. She was waiting for him as she guided him away, shielding his mind from what he had just seen. _Enough, little one._

Eventually the tears stopped, and she was able to look around her without flinching. The shackles still hung, a cold reminder of days gone by, the silver untarnished through spells. The wooden table with its straps. She shivered and looked past, not willing to remember that part. She backed up, motioning to him as she stepped by. He followed her. Once she was clear she raised a hand and pointed.

"Brisingr."

After several minutes it was gone.

She spun on her heel and retraced their steps, not even realizing the touch of another when Eragon took her hand in his. It was over. She muttered the word again as she passed by the nest, then quickened her pace, pulling him with her, desperate to get out.

Saphira spread her wings when they emerged. Raylena glanced at the Lethrblaka crumpled, and with a sigh opened her mouth to speak.

"Brisingr," Eragon whispered for her, laying a hand on her shoulder, gently pushing her towards Saphira, leaving the fire to burn out on its own.

They sat sheltered from the sun beneath Saphira's wings, Helgrind behind them and the smell of smoke drifting down. Raylena sat silently, her knees drawn up and her chin resting on them. Eragon relaxed against his dragon, wishing there was something he could do for her. He would never forget what he had seen. The dark stains everywhere had only doubled the pain he felt for her.

"I don't even know how long I was there." The whisper was strained, her voice raspy.

He didn't reply. If she wanted to speak she would; he didn't need to pressure her.

"You want to know why."

A statement. He could feel her grey eyes drilling into him. Reluctantly he met her gaze, surprised at the calm openness he found. "Yes."

She told him everything.

* * *

**Ouch.**


	30. Chapter Thirty

**"What's in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet."**

**(or poke as hard)  
**

* * *

Saphira was humming. Eragon lifted his head and scrubbed at his eyes, trying to hold back a vicious torrent of emotion. Raylena was surprisingly calm, staring off into the distance. Perhaps all she had needed was to speak of it. First with Saphira, and then another... even though half of him wished he had not been the one she had chosen.

_Not calm_, Saphira interrupted. _She's in a daze. Her mind is unusually still. I've been trying to draw her out of it, but nothing is working. She is stuck in her past, Eragon. Just give her some time. Talk to her. Tell her about yourself; maybe it will help her mind return to the present._

So he told her. He started from the beginning, from everything that he remembered. Everything about Garrow and Roran. He told her of finding Saphira, of their first flight. Of Brom and everything he had done for Eragon. The Varden. The dwarves. The elves. So many days. She eventually reacted slightly several times, flinching and giving her head a slight shake when he mentioned Brom's death. When he told her briefly of Murtagh she tensed. When he recounted as much as possible about Oromis as he remembered her eyes filled with tears. He trailed off, not wishing to go into any battles or struggles with the army, content to leave her in peace.

After a few minutes of silence, she abruptly turned and looked at him, frowning. "Was I dreaming? You were talking."

"Do you remember any of it?"

"I believe most... so you were speaking to me?"

He nodded.

She shook her head harder. "Oh, Brom," she murmured, with a sigh. "Thank you, Eragon."

Eragon smiled, happy when she returned the gesture and hopeful that thoughts of Helgrind were held now at bay. They chatted a while longer. Raylena was full of questions, and Eragon was determined to do anything he could to distract her. Saphira interjected playfully when she thought Eragon had forgotten something or was trying not to embarrass himself.

Before he was ready, he felt a touch on his mind. Arya. He wished he could ignore her and retain this new-found intimacy, but the elf was not to be deterred.

_Eragon!_

_Yes?_

_We would appreciate you gracing us with your presence. Raylena as well._

_We're coming._

Raylena cocked her head, curiosity lighting up her eyes.

He smiled tightly. "We've been called."

Immediately the humor and bounce drained from her, and her voice turned cynical. "Of course. Reality awaits."

Eragon stood up, bowed, and lowered his hands. There was no hesitation as she placed hers in his. Finally, a level of trust! He drew her to her feet, smiled down again, and then they were off. It was all he could do to gather one of her hands back in his.

The night was spent planning battle strategies until everyone was hoarse from arguing. Raylena sat with her fingers pressed against her temples, feeling as if her mind would explode. This upcoming battle was more important than anything they had ever done before. It had to be executed perfectly, but none of them could agree on what to do. So many arguments. She had a headache.

Nasuada was speaking to her, but was silenced with a glare from the halfing. She would fight as she was told. She wouldn't think about it ahead of time. It was hard enough for her; why bother squabbling about the inevitable? People were going to die no matter what they did. Every time... it was hard enough to break the circling of her thoughts, why did they have to live in them like this? Back and forth and around and around. It was the same every time.

Eragon was looking at her. She glanced over and met his gaze, forcing a smile to match the one he sent her. He pitied her, she knew. Yet it wasn't detestable as so many before. Sweet of him..

Nasuada crossed her arms and frowned as she studied her friend. Raylena could be stubborn at times. Perhaps the monotony of death and pain was too familiar to handle for such a long amount of time. Still, she didn't have to be rude about it. If she didn't want to speak if it she might as well have stayed away for once. Unfortunately she considered it her duty to be present as she did need to know what she needed to be doing. Yet at the same time she didn't care to be told and would do what she wanted.

_Bah!_

It was infuriating.

Orrin was looking at her, sympathy clearly written in his eyes. Raylena had become more stubborn and unyielding the closer they had gotten to Dras Leona. He had watched with apprehension as the dragon had flown her up to Helgrind; no doubt that excursion had darkened her mood, even though she seemed almost... liberated now. Still, she was out of character. She had never once grown irritated with Nasuada, but had always seem so grateful and withdrawn without the snide words she gave to everyone else.

He watched in some amusement as Nasuada rolled her eyes and purposefully put her back to her friend. She would overcome Raylena's snippy attitude soon enough; it was in her personality to move on. His eyes traveled down to her arms as she began jabbing her hands for emphasis. Only recently had she allowed the scars on her arms to show; it was a true testament to her.

Raylena knew they were angry. She was angry with herself as well. Her fists tightened. Without another word so stood up and stalked from the tent. Not tonight.

* * *

**Meep. Talking isn't necessary. Thanks for the reviews.**


	31. Chapter Thirty One

_They had gone farther than before. _

_They were on a "sabbatical" in a small village in the far western reaches of the forest. It was mostly deserted; there were only a few elves scattered around. From the looks of the place, Raylena wasn't even sure that they did live there as they said they did. Perhaps they lived there at the moment, but not normally. Ah, the ways one could twist the Ancient Language in order to keep track of two youngsters... Youngsters? They never stopped patronizing her._

_She stepped lightly by his side. They were walking amongst the trees; it was incredible how the giant beast could creep so silently without disturbing the peace of Du Weldenvarden. He bumped her, sending her tumbling onto her face. _

I am the epitome of stealth.

_She spat out the dirt that had found its way into her mouth and choked down a laugh. _Bah!

_His chuckle drifted through her mind as she caught onto his tail. He flicked his tail up, setting her on her feet gently. _

_She slapped him, trying to scowl but failing as she wheezed in order to keep her laughter silent. _

_He nudged her more gently a second time. _Come on. I have something to show you.

_Her curiosity was not piqued. When she questioned him as to what it was, he only teased her further. Finally she could stand it no longer and broke into a sprint, containing her laughter to their minds. _Catch me if you can!

Wait!

_A giggle escaped as she ducked around a few more trees, flashing a wink over her shoulder. It was in that instant that the ground beneath her feet changed. She staggered to a stop, staring backwards into Du Weldenvarden and the line of trees. The roots twisted to a gentle stop at the border of the forest._

_He lumbered up, picking his way through the tangled mess at the edge of the forest. His large green eyes were sparkling at her, and she could see the shock on her face mirrored in the orbs. Her heart skipped a beat as she slowly turned around._

_Alagaesia stretched out before her. Her eyes widened as she gazed over the rolling plain. The darkened horizon shadowed some things; surely the lakes and small mountains she had studied on the maps in Oromis's hut on the Craigs of Tel'naeir. Everything looked still and perfect as it sat waiting for her eyes to take in. _

_She couldn't look enough. Why had this been kept from her for so long?_

_They were both enraptured; their focus slackened. The clicks didn't reach her ears._

_She cried out, her scream drowned in his roar at her pain. Her arm was coated in blood. She turned and whipped out the blade, the emerald green shining in the moonlight. The beasts stood before her. Everything moved into a blur._

Inexperienced.

_His words spoken a mere few days ago rang through her head, pounding and scolding as she lashed out. _Not ready. Too young. Unbalanced.

_She stumbled, her guard let down._

_Another blow, and he roared again, fury now blinding his good sense as they converged on her, hammering her with lighting quick strikes. _

_She fell backward, her human instincts taking over, slowing down her elven reflexes. A green bolt barreled past her. She could only stare in agony, crippled from the wounds. The burn escaped her senses as time slowed down._

Unbalanced.

_The glint of the blade was unseen._

_He screamed and the sound made her sick. Something in her snapped, and she wrenched herself off the ground and threw herself forward, curses flying from her lips as she began to sob._

_He inhaled and streamlined a burst of flame, the fire not its usual brilliance. She tried; oh! She tried. No use. Too late. _

_Another dagger._

_Another scream. _

_The anguish stoked her rage. One soon lay dead, but the two overpowered her easily. _

_She collapsed to the ground, the poisoned brew lighting her skin on fire and incapacitating her. Yet still she struggled._

_A shudder of his wings was the only movement she saw as her mind began to fade._

Dear heart...

_The familiar presence faded from her mind._

_Everything fell into oblivion._

Raylena jolted from her sleep, kicking as she felt herself pinned. A voice was demanding something in her ear, a familiar voice. She blinked and squinted, a leather jerking the only thing she saw. She couldn't open her mouth and let out a muffled complaint, striking upwards, connecting with flesh. She had to get free!

"Sorry," was ground out.

The magic was removed, and she hissed out a curse, wishing she had been left alone in her misery as she shoved him away.

Eragon hesitantly released her, partially wondering what she had been dreaming of.

_Eragon. Do you not know?_ Saphira's gently rebuke stung. Of course he did.

She had been convulsing when he found her, crying out in her sleep. It was as if she had sensed his presence; she had immediately swung a fist in his direction. He had tried to draw her from the dream, but a charm on her mind kept him from doing so. All he could do was keep her from hurting herself and wait. It had been arduous.

He stared at her frenzied eyes. She had calmed her breathing and the sweat had dried, but her mind was still panicked. He studied her face, amazed at the control he saw. The unbalanced mess underneath was truly something to behold.

Raylena shivered and drew further away from him. He had that look on his face again; the one he got when he was trying to pick through her brain. She frowned at him, not wanting to be bothered very much. He meant well. She knew that. But right now she didn't want his kindness. She wanted to be alone. Now she remembered everything. She had to sort through it.

His eyes seemed to soften as he stood up and smiled faintly before backing out of her tent. She gazed at his back as he left, no longer finding him a mystery. Now she felt sorry for him. She recognized the look he so often sent her. She sighed as the cloth settled back into place.

* * *

**:'(**


	32. Chapter Thirty Two

**I don't like it shooooort. But oh well, I don't like sections clumped together either. Here you are.**

* * *

Raylena stood to the rear, her sword limp at her side as she gazed over Dras Leona. The city was familiar to her; somewhere in a dream she knew it. Very faint. But she knew it.

A friendly soldier nearby screamed as someone skewered him. She turned and listlessly batted away the attacking blade that had slain an ally before flicking the tip of her own through his throat. He collapsed, and she returned to her former state of stillness. He had been so young.

Saphira roared in the distance, and Raylena could see the towering inferno.

She sighed heavily and let her shoulders slump. Murtagh was nowhere to be found. She was thankful for it, but at the same time it worried her. She knew what might happen. What would happen. It annoyed her that she worried, but she dismissed it as her own painful memories. No one, not even that piece of scum, deserved what could happen.

Someone was speaking to her. She turned and blankly stared at the man before her. He was the same who had disturbed her meditation so long ago. The Nighthawk? Sympathy was etched into his face as his lips moved. She heard no sound, and after a few more heartbeats she put her back to him.

A hand touched her shoulder lightly, making her flinch. He stepped past her with a tight smile before he disappeared into the melee ahead of her. She watched him leaving, briefly hoping she would have another time to insult him again rather than see his lifeless eyes boring into hers. She choked out a grim laugh at the thought. Just another face lost in the pile of flesh to be buried. Or burned. Whichever caught her leaders' fancy at the time.

Cheering? People were cheering. Perhaps the city was finally taken, with minimal activity on her part. Good. How long had it been? It would be too soon that she would be needed to cover her sword in blood.

Eragon glanced over at the young woman who now looked years older. Gone was the spark of innocence and frailty. It was as if new lines had been etched into her face... he barely recognized her. Insane as she might have been, it had never been channeled this way before. She hadn't spoken to anyone since refusing to clean herself of the battle. Her hair was matted and tangled, the normal leather band restraining it gone. Her clothes were soaked with sweat and blood, and grime covered every inch of visible skin. Whatever makeup she used to cover the vicious scar was gone, giving her the look of a ruffian.

Her eyes were vacant and clouded. Sapphira had tried to reach her, but it had been of no use. It was strange... she had seemed invigorated after the previous fight, but now it was the complete opposite. Drained. She was drained of every emotion and spark of life. She hadn't moved in nearly an hour.

He flinched as her gaze suddenly pierced his, accusations written on her face. He had been the only one staring and intruding. Forced she may be to sit in and listen to the next course of action, she could be left in peace. He frowned and shifted his eyes away, albeit reluctantly. He wished there was something he could do to help.

She was angry. Far more angry than she had been in a very long time. The blood spilled, the screams heard... it had awakened in her a fire she had not known in years. She refused to look, but sensed the blood staining her front. She remembered where it had come from. The man, no, boy she had hacked down in order to save herself. Split his chest open. Had she not, their positions would have been reversed.

Yet how she hated herself for it. He had been innocent and free of any contamination save the one they fed into his mind. It wasn't his fault... he was merely prey to the propaganda... or perhaps he had been acting in order to save his family or a friend. She would never know. But the terror in his eyes that had replaced the invincibility would be imprinted on her heart forever. Would she could change her lot in life with his.

They had come so far; there was no turning back. The road to Uru'baen had nearly ended. Soon they would be there; all they had to do was cross the tail of the Ramr River and they would be within a day or two of attacking the capitol. Then it would be over, one way or the other. And there was nothing she could do to stop it.

She cursed aloud and leaped to her feet. Enough was enough. Ignoring the uncomfortable stares of the others in Nasuada's tent, she stormed out, her mind a muddle of fury.


	33. Chapter Thirty Three

**FLUFFY AS A UNICORN. But not really.**

* * *

The Ramr river was strangely quiet and still, largely different from the raging Jiet earlier in their journey. Everything around it matched. It was dead, nearly, as if it were set apart from the regular course of the world and sequestered away in the corner of a cellar. Raylena had noticed it gradually turning so as the miles passed, but the abrupt change took her off guard. There was life abundant; she could feel it, but where was it all hiding?

The soldiers had sensed it as well, and before long their entire camp was muttering and scowling. Their attitudes only reflected what the earth showed, yet it wouldn't help the situation.

With a sigh, she turned from where she stood and slowly walked back to camp. They would have to cross soon and push through the last stretch before the men went stir crazy. It was a specially made charm, but she couldn't find the source. It was there, just not _here_. Her teeth clenched involuntarily. Of course she knew where it was. She just didn't want to think about it. Not right now... no, not now.

She glanced around at the barren, yet thriving land and shook her head. All they had to do was cross, and Uru'Baen would be set dead ahead of them, soon to grow larger on the horizon, taunting and calling to them until they were at her feet, miniscule compared to the size and power of the city.

Forget the men. She'd go crazy before any of them.

Eragon watched for her return. She had grown more sullen the further they had traveled. He was fairly certain he knew why; he and the elves had been trying endlessly for the past two days to find the beginning of the spell so they could hopefully end it. Still they couldn't find it. Even linking their strength, plus Glaedr's, and searching through Uru'Baen had done no good. It was no where to be found.

A silhouette was moving towards him off in the distance. He squinted, then stretched his mind out. _Raylena?_

_Eragon. Not right now, please._ She pulled away from him, the warning evident.

He understood. She must have been puzzling over the situation herself. He had learned long ago not to try to have her think and do two different things at the same time. It had not been a pleasant sight when she finally broke down from the effort to maintain control over them both... Glaedr was able to help where he was not. It had been awful; he did not want a repeat of the incident. Neither did she, he assumed.

At least now he could study her face, as she was nearing him. It was drawn tight and shuttered, though he could see her lips moving as she spoke aloud to herself. It was a new habit of hers, this vocalization. It helped her concentrate and drew her out of her mind into reality. He was happy she had finally consented to try, even if it only made the men more afraid of her. She acted like a senile witch in their eyes.

He managed a smile. She was shaking her head and then arguing with herself. If he strained his ears he could hear pieces of the conversation. It was funny, in a way, to finally experience what she lived with. The unbalanced state of her mind had begun to level out.

_Not actually._

_What?_

_My mind? _She was staring at him now as she closed the gap.

He felt his face growing red. There was no accusation in her eyes, but nevertheless, he had still been analyzing her. "Forgive me, I-"

"Don't really know anything... you have touched the mind of an elf?" She stopped before him, a slight hitch of wariness in her voice.

He nodded. "The depth and beauty of it was incredible."

"And you were drawn in, were you not?"

He nodded again, knowing she expected it. "Yes, but being a Rider-"

"Of course. You could resist." She flung her hands out, standing in surrender. "Think of a human, Eragon. Did a human ever plunge into the chasm? What happened to him?"

Immediately his thoughts turned to the Nighthawk... yes, the man had been thoroughly addled for weeks. "Nasuada had one of the Nighthawks examine the Blodhgarm and the others when they arrived at out camp. He was completely out of his mind after-"

"All of them?!" Once again, she interrupted, though this time she was scowling. "What was Nasuada thinking?"

"Well, she didn't-" He winced and clamped his mouth shut at the torrent.

"Arya then! How despicable of her! She knew what would happen... yet she stood by? How dare she! It's not right for any man. They cannot bear the burden of a magical being." She frowned, and the anger faded quickly as she seemed to remember something. "Remember, Eragon, my mind is thus joined, a continuing dance of the normal and abnormal."

She crossed her arms tightly, now depressed. "No matter what I do, I can not control it. Oromis... he had a spell. It kept my mind in balance... mostly. He never taught it to me, however, and Glaedr does not know." She laughed sharply. "The ability to control a person's brain... it was too much to spread around, even to a dragon."

Eragon cleared his throat, drawing her out of the trance he saw her slipping to. "How did he ever sustain it?"

She glanced at him, confused.

"I mean... he could only do simple spells. He wouldn't have been able to sustain anything that complicated..." He trailed off, his face turning color now. "Raylena, I..."

She smiled now, ruefully. "I understand. Perhaps that is why no one was ever able to replicate it. It was too simple to imagine, yet complex enough." She sighed, turning to face the river once again. "Well, Solembum knows... but he has yet to tell me. I only hope he found a way to implant it well enough that I can not shake it loose as I have before." Her eyes darkened and she frowned, her thoughts turning to-

Eragon stepped beside her and placed a hand on her shoulder, copying her silence as she gazed over the land, her eyes blank and unseeing. "Thank you for telling me," he whispered, hoping it would placate and calm her.

For once, his touch did not alarm her. She made no move to react, so he began to pull his hand away. Before he could react, however, she spun around flung herself into his chest, slipping her arms around his waist. He bit back a gasp to keep from scaring her away, then quickly wrapped his own arms around her, drawing her in tightly before she could move. Finally! The ultimate breakthrough. He had done it. He had worn down her barriers just far enough.

_Saphira? What do I do now?_

She chuckled. _Just wait._

Wait he did. Raylena did not some intent on moving for some time, so he made use of his time. He stared off into the distance and murmured a spell. His vision went blurry, the sharpened, growing out over the miles until he found the shadow on the horizon. He stared for a few seconds, and then let the magic fade away. They were so close... yet like many times before he wished he could be running in the opposite direction, into the Spine and over the sea. Far, far away. Another galaxy, perhaps. Anywhere but here.

_Eragon,_ Saphira hummed._ We are needed._

_I know, Saphira, I know... I just wish..._ He sighed internally_. I wish, Saphira._

_As do I, little one. And the time may come soon, but for now you must concentrate on the present._

_Of course._

And at the present, he was more than happy to concentrate on the young woman tucked warmly up against him.

It took an entire day for their army to ford across the Ramr. They went cautiously, and quietly, in smaller groups. The elves had wards and shields in place, but being this close to him they had no choice but to be prepared for anything.

Unfortunately, Eragon was standing further away from Raylena than he wished. After their embrace late yesterday afternoon... he finally had hope. Unlike Arya, who had never responded to his attention. Raylena was, in her own way. She was opening up to him, and sharing things that were locked deep away in her mind. He had no doubt Nasuada knew most things, and Angela... Arya more than she let on. But him, a man! She had no real trust of men, not after Murtagh's abandonment. He had learned this much.

Saphira chuckled. Her Rider was completely smitten. She circled high above the group, keeping her eyes everywhere on the land and watching for any danger. So far all she had seen were some tasty looking wild goats and boar... but now was not the time. If she thought anymore on their succulent roasted flesh, crisp in all the right places, she would go mad! She had a duty to attend to. Keeping the fighters safe, and her Rider from doing anything... stupid.

He was always stupid when in love.


	34. Chapter Thirty Four

**Coming down the final stretch!**

* * *

_There it is._

She had only to look quickly before the memories came in at full blast. She worked her way through careful, thoroughly. It hurt. Oh! It hurt. Her mind went careening from one to the next, sorting and shelving. Pushing away those she couldn't bare to remember, and focusing on the ones necessary. The streets, twisting and turning. She knew most of them. Would know more, when she saw them. If she saw them. If they survived long enough. If they even made it in. If they didn't go crazy.

Raylena frowned, clenching her jaw. Now was not the time to worry. She had to concentrate. Jeod had been working hard ever since they left Surda on finding any secret entrances, but there were none to be found. None in any of the writings, of course. There was much one could do with magic. Even destroy beautiful pieces of literature. She knew he wouldn't find anything. She was trying to remember; she had heard so much! Known so much. Minor details escaped her. She couldn't remember. If she could...

_Oh, if!_

And then, a thought. So small, and delicate, wormed its way in. Perhaps... No, it was madness. Yet that was something to thrive on, yes? No. Yes. NO... yes? She rubbed her head, closing her eyes. Think! She had to think through this! Maybe. Yes, maybe. Slight chance. Probably not... but if anyone was stupid enough to do it... he was.

They all hovered around the table, torn between gazing at each other and planning. It might be the last chance they ever got to look into a friends' eyes. Most likely the last.

_Definitely for some,_ Eragon amended.

It would have to be. There was no way they could survive this; at least, not all of them. Some, hopefully. But all? Never. Not with a full frontal assault, such as they were discussing. They couldn't find any other way. Cloaking themselves with magic? Creating duplicates? Uru'Baen was filled with some of Galbatorix's most feared and powerful magicians. Even with the elves, it would be too difficult. They couldn't fight, hold a spell, and repel a mental attack at the same time. Eragon and Raylena had tried.

Needless to say, it was a miserable, humiliating effort.

"What if we were to divide our troops?" Orrin was pacing, desperate to come up with something less suicidal. "We could scale the outer wall; their defenses would be split."

"Split, yes. But any smaller? I doubt it." Raylena crossed her arms and hugged herself tightly. "There is many a place to hide a body; plenty of shadows to shield one's movement. There are probably thousands of soldiers waiting for us."

"What else can we do?" Nasuada sighed heavily, shaking her head. "I fear there is not much more." She eyed her friend thoughtfully. The woman was tense, every nerve on edge. She was plotting something, but so far she had yet to reveal any bit of it. Was she nervous? For once in her life, Nasuada hoped not.

The room escalated into debates once more. It was a repeat of every siege before; they were all clamoring, bouncing around ideas, hoping for someone to take one and run away with it, bringing them to safety with Galbatorix fallen. Yet none so far struck any as being better or easier to accomplish.

Nasuada looked at Raylena once more. The other woman was too quiet. Not the angered, brooding silence she had wallowed in before Dras Leona. No, this one was different. Contemplative. Yes, she was nervous. Afraid even. And for Raylena to be afraid, even struck into silence by it... well, perhaps it was the city, or the epidemic that had swept over their army.

The grey eyes raised to meet hers. Sorrow tinged the color, darkening it. Now Nasuada had no doubt. Raylena was terrified, but not from the impending battle. It was from something else...

_I'm sorry._ The whisper floated through her barriers, filling Nasuada with dread.

Raylena was the first to look away, her face set and determined now. Nasuada sighed again.

"Eragon."

The quiet word brought a hush to the room.

He turned to face the halfing, feeling a new weight settle on his shoulders. The expression on her face was something he had never seen from her before. "Yes?"

"Do you trust me?"

The question sat heavily on his shoulders. Did he trust her?

_Eragon. If there was any time..._

Yes, of course. How could he not?

He straightened his shoulders and drew himself up. "Of course."

"There's a tunnel, a drain, more like, on the north east corner of the city wall. It goes underground and comes up into the cellars of the castle."

Arya began to interject, but Raylena held up her hand, staring at the other Rider, expecting a reply.

Eragon held his ground, knowing now, if ever, his destiny was at hand. "The cellars?"

"Yes. There are stairs to the left of the grate. Through the door at the top there is a hallway, and more stairs."

"Two staircases?"

"The second leads to a wall. Directly behind and above is a door accessible, but only if you jump." She paused again, waiting.

"I have to turn around and jump to it." He knew what she was doing. There was no way anyone could communicate with him once he entered the city. It would be too dangerous- for him, and for the other.

The directions came in the same, uneven manner. She would speak and he would repeat. When he felt she reached a climax, she abandoned her train of thought and started over again. They went through three more times, with her details increasing each time. Then a fourth. And a fifth.

An hour must have passed. Eragon shook himself, as if from a daze, when he and Raylena were finally finished. He glanced about, regaining his sense of reality. Her mind had overwhelmed his, and while speaking she had showed him key points until the path had been burned into his memory. They had been drawn together, forsaking the rest who now stood and stared at them. Had they even spoken aloud? He opened his mouth to find out, but Arya was faster.

"No."

He tried to respond, but then he realized her furious glare wasn't directed at him, but Raylena. "_No._", she repeated, more forcefully, when the other woman didn't respond.

Seconds passed. "Yes," Raylena returned, albeit quieter. "Yes. It's the only-"

"No! There will be another."

"The longer we wait the harder it will be to rally the men out of their stupor. It has the element of surprise. One of the elves can pose as Eragon. It will not be hard." She glanced at Nasuada, whose face was drawn tight. The others remained silent.

Arya stepped forward until they were face to face. "I won't allow this to happen."

"You will not? It is not your decision, Arya."

"Neither is it yours to step in and command eve-"

"Do not forget _your_ place, Arya," Raylena hissed, her eyes snapping with fire. "For the Riders transcend government in a time of need. Is it not so?"

The elf's face darkened dangerously. "You're going to get him killed."

"Not if you and everyone else does exactly as they're told to." She held her glared for a few more seconds before whirling away. "If we draw the troops out of the city and distract them, Eragon will have time. Glaedr and I know many spells; we can keep him protected and safe, and we can attach the spells to his belt so it won't drain anyone of their energy."

Raylena stared at everyone in turn until each nodded. When she reached Arya, the elf glared at her, then crossed her arms and looked away. Her eyes turned to the last one. "Eragon?" _I would never send you if I was not sure of the way. _Her gaze was pleading, desperate.

_Saphira?_

_What choice do we have?_ She sighed heavily, and he could feel the earth shiver under her weight as it shifted. _There is nothing else that I can think of. Raylena may be mad, but there is a cunning part about her that has never escaped me. Even out of her wits she is ruthless and able to complete anything. You did not see her fight Murtagh, Eragon._

_No... Then I shall go?_

_It pains me to be apart from you, especially since you get into the worst of trouble when I'm not there to knock sense into you-_

_Hey!_

_-but there is nothing else to do._

He withdrew from Saphira and nodded at Raylena, forcing a smile. "I will do it."

Her face fell into relief and she returned the gesture. "Then it is settled." She turned back to the war table. "Now all we need is the diversion..."


	35. Chapter Thirty Five

**AND HERE'S WHERE IT GETS STUPID. Seriously. I hate the next few parts. Oh well. I can't be bothered to rewrite it, so I think you'll get the point.**

* * *

Eragon pressed himself against the wall as the men sprinted past. All of the charms Raylena and Glaedr had woven over him had so far protected him from anything. Nothing had escaped his notice, and he was able to avoid any traps set. No one could see or hear him. He was almost through the labyrinth... all he needed to do was find the stairs and go to the top. He still didn't know why he was listening to that crazy woman, but she had been right before.

Right before, but right now? She had been very persuasive, and he had been persuaded. Now he only hoped Raylena was remembering correctly. Her times during Helgrind had been a nightmare; how could he trust her to be entirely certain? But he had nothing else to go on. Besides, he was already in the middle of Uru'Baen. There was no point in turning back now. And he was still alive; if not for many of her warnings he might be gutted on a blade somewhere.

He shivered as he passed by some closed doors. The feeling that crept into his mind was nearly overwhelming. Someone moaned from behind one, and he winced. If anything had happened to them as it had Raylena, who knew what state they were in? Or who the were, even... threats, obviously. Perhaps nobles? Or stolen elves? Children, as Raylena had been? He didn't want to think of it.

Perhaps it was the mental anguish more than the physical. Raylena had told him what Galbatorix had made Murtagh do to her, but when he had asked her what the king had done, she'd had a rare breakdown, collapsing in a ball shrieking and weeping. He's had to sprint and retrieve Glaedr's Eldunari, and even then it had been nearly an hour before she was back in her normal state of mind... well, the normal it had been recently.

_Focus._

The one word whispered frightened him. Where had it come from? It was not a voice he knew. With a shiver he hurried his steps, carefully to remain silent while wishing it were already over. The top. He had to reach the steeple. If Raylena was right, that was where the Rock of Kuthian was to be found. He hoped she was right.

_Eragon, look behind you._

He froze, and for the first time his hands began to tremble. He slowly turned, careful not to touch anything or move. Murtagh was stalking down the hallway, clutching his head and muttering curses in the Ancient Language. He winced, swayed, then collapsed to his knees, gritting his teeth to bite back the cries of pain.

His head. Oh, his head. Go away! Leave him alone! Enough! Torture! Now he knew what she had always felt li- Another deep, ripping stab nearly split his mind in half. Forget her. Forget her. She was nothing, right? The deep, sultry voice told him so. In the tiny corner of his heart he managed to keep hidden he knew otherwise. That he believed it so. Thorn. He had to find Thorn. There was work to be done.

Eventually he managed to stand to his feet, still muttering. Eragon watched in horror as he took in the bruises on Murtagh's face. How had he not noticed before? Unless... His brother winced, touched his forehead gently, and the color faded. He straightened his shoulder, fighting to keep his expression under control, and strode past Eragon, not noticing his shadowed figure.

Eragon stared at his retreating back, pity swelling through him.

_Now do you see?_

He frowned, still concerned about the mind that had managed to invade his own. He hadn't even noticed. Yet it hadn't done anything... So far he was still safe, unless there was a trap waiting for him upstairs. He steeled his nerves, wishing not for the first time that Saphira could have come with him, and then moved on, grinding his teeth and blocking out the tortured cries that invaded his ears.

The stairs weren't hard to find. It was desolate as he climbed, getting colder and grayer with each step. How he wished Raylena had known more about his final destination. The stairwell was enough to promise danger. As he rose higher and higher he began to hear them. The voices. Whispering, screaming, taunting, weeping. He hugged himself, his heart beat increasing. There was no doubt about it this time; Raylena had been right.

There were so many in this vault of souls. Some high and piercing, tearing through his heart. Many others so deep and mighty. The Eldunari. He heard their mournful songs and recognized the tongue Raylena had sang in so many months ago. Oh, if only he were back safely in Feinster, listening to the sweet tune that had come from her. Not here. Anywhere but here.

He shook his head, clearing it. He couldn't fall prey to that again... but wait! It was growing stronger, battling against the wards his friends had placed. Perhaps he could root it out once he reached the vault of souls? A chill ran down his spine as a ghostly scream ripped through his mind, returning his thoughts to the spirits as he neared their dwelling.

There was one... it was... different. So familiar, yet so foreign. A sweet, gentle memory that tugged at his heart. It faintly reminded him of... Garrow?

_My mother._ The realization hurt. His mother was dead, and here she was, trapped in the highest reaches of Uru'baen, along with all the rest of the dead.

Suddenly, he crested the top. He breathed deeply, quietly. He pressed his back to the wall, creeping around the curve, his eyes widening as he gazed into the room.

There were tapestries everywhere. Beautiful, long, colorful sheets of cloth. So many faces. The expressions varied between fear, anguish, and peace. One caught his attention. The old man's face, full of dry humor, and the long, tangled beard brought tears to his eyes. Brom's deep eyes stared lifelessly into his own.

_Ah, Eragon._

He turned, feeling the source of the voice. A large, silver eye peered at him, blinking once. He knew it was over.

Yet Shruiken merely stared, making Eragon's bones rattle. The size of the dragon was hidden in the shadows of the hall. There was no telling how deep the room was, or how much space the large dragon occupied. Eragon swallowed hard, trying to dislodge the lump in his throat. _What are you going to do to me?_

The eye blinked again.

Eragon shivered, then forced himself to turn away. The presence that had squeezed into his mind permeated the air. The dragon could have done away with him hours ago. It would not do to worry about him now. He had to hope...

With that in mind, he began searching through the room, looking for anything that resembled a stone, _anything_ that could possible be the Rock of Kuthian. So far, one sweep of everything opposite the large dragon had revealed nothing. He glanced over at the eye.

Shruiken blinked again, and Eragon looked away. _Do you know for what you search?_

_The Rock of Kuthian._

Another blink, quickly followed by a second. That was new. _Do you know what it is?_

_Actually... no._ His shoulders drooped. He was lost. He should have pestered the cat for more information, or questioned if it were even true. Still, Oromis had said that the cat's words should be heeded. Solembum _was_ a werecat; they _were_ enchanted beings... but...

_A werecat told you?_

_Solembum._

Another blink._ What did he tell you, Eragon?_

_To speak my name to the Rock of Kuthian to unlock the Vault of Souls._

A rumble started deep in the dragon's throat. _I cannot help you anymore. Only hurry, for your presence has been detected._

_What?! How, I-_

_Hurry..._ the dragon faded faded from his mind, and the eye shut. Shruiken was now invisible to his eyes. It was eerie, knowing the beast was there, even though he could not see him.

Eragon spun on his heel, pacing. He raked his hands through his hair, trying to make himself think harder. Where else could it be? He had now way of finding any other place it could be. He groaned and dropped his head back, squeezing his eyes shut. It was hopeless. He was going to die in here, and all would be lost.

Tears threatened to spill. Tears? Was he going mad? He sniffed and opened his eyes, staring up at the shining ceiling. It glistened like Isidar Mithrim. So beautifully dark, and-

His eyes widened. With a spell, he propelled himself up into the air, high above the floor until he was in arm's reach. As soon as his fingers brushed the stone, a chill swept through him. Dozens of voices rang into his mind from the brief contact. Withdrawing quickly, he inhaled deeply. He had found it.

He cleared his throat, and spoke in the Ancient Language: "My name is Eragon."

Nothing.

He repeated it, feeling his energy drain. It was finally too much. As he descended, another thought crept into his mind. The knowledge of men climbing the stairs. He had to act quickly.

As soon as his feet touched the floor, he proceeded to fling aside the mental walls that Raylena and Glaedr had put into place. _Glaedr!_ His shout was dangerous, but there was no time.

There was a vicious roar in his mind. _What are you-  
_

_My name. Oromis believed he could figure out my Name. You know Oromis. Tell me, Ebrithil, what is my Name?_

Silence. His heart thudded in his chest.

Then three words were spoken. Whispered, into his soul.

As soon as he heard them, he felt his heart still. For a moment, he was suspended in time, happy and mournful and everything all at the same time. It was wonderfully terrible. He raised his head slowly, aware again of the feet dashing up the steps the steps. And he spoke.


	36. Chapter Thirty Six

**You know when you have absolutely no idea what to do? There's always an answer: PLAGIARIZE TOLKIEN. Considering he's like, the best there is. My genius tapped out at this point.**

* * *

Raylena groaned as her body was flung into the ground again. Her limbs were trembling. She couldn't hold off for much longer. She was going to die.

Murtagh brandished his blade, his face twisting, the wretched voice being forced from his lips. "Like father, like daughter. Neither competent in the end." A cynical smile twisted the young man's face. Even his eyes were black. If Murtagh was alive, he was being smothered.

Raylena pushed her hands against the ground, forcing herself to rise to her feet. She was bruised all over, from her pinky to her heel. Even her lungs ached from within as she tried to breathe deeply and gather more strength. She glanced over at her sword, lying shining on the earth, the emerald green sparkling in the sun.

His eyes followed her, and with a word he summoned the weapon to his other hand, winking at her.

_Vile._

She shook her head and backed up, knowing the effort was useless. If she was to die, couldn't she at least hold the one thing that defined her? The essence of her existence? She glanced down at her hands, the leather scratched and made rough by the constant tumbles. There was something else... she looked up and met his eyes as she deliberately peeled off the covering, revealing her gedwey ignasia.

It began to shimmer as he stepped forward. She straightened her shoulders and stared at him, that long lost feeling starting to replace the hole in her heart. She was who she was; why hide it? She opened her mouth to speak, but Murtagh doubled over, collapsing to the ground.

"Murtagh!" She shouldn't be scared. What was going on?

He was shaking. And then yelling. Then it was silent. Murtagh cursed and raised his head, his clear brown eyes reflecting the confusion in her own. He opened his mouth to speak, but said nothing. She didn't want to.

They stared at each other until the sound reached them. It chilled her through her bones. And then the thudding. The awful, beautiful rhythm. Her heart began to beat in time as she slowly turned, not daring to believe.

From behind Uru'Baen there came a cry. Voices, so many voices crying out. So many familiar. She began to sway as her mind was overwhelmed. Too many to know or hear. Too many distractions. No, it couldn't be! She heard him.

Eragon was lying on his face when he regained consciousness. He forced his eyes open and stood shakily to his feet, coming face-to-face with none other than Galbatorix. The man was staring at him, a blank expression on his face. His long, thin, withered face. He was staring, unmoving. Eragon stared back, wondering what he should do. If he should run, or if he should die.

The king slowly raised his eyes, staring up at the cracked stone. "_What have you done?_"

The voice. Everything Raylena had said sounded nothing like what he heard now. It echoed through his ears and mind, sending him into a dizzy spiral through himself. He had to concentrate. The words Glaedr had spoken over him were whirling through his head. He focused on them and let them build until the damp feeling slithered away.

The king was now smiling. "Well done, Eragon... well done."

Eragon ran. And for some reason, he wasn't drawn back. He leaped down the steps, going faster and faster until he thought he was flying. Out. He had to get out. Now.

Raylena sank to her knees, her arms limp by her sides as she stared. It seemed the bottom of the castle was ripped out, and from it rose a terrifying army. He led it.

_Thud._

She trembled with every downbeat. His shadowy form was not quite solid, but she was seeing it. Her heart must be near exploding.

_Thud._

A tendril of thought reached her. Oh! So familiar. Another. She was on her feet, running, forgetting what was around her. Her vision was blurring. Tears. She was weeping, everything in her pulsating with the rhythm of his wings. She was screaming his name. "Eridor!"

His beautiful, jaded eyes locked onto hers. He let out a bugle and tipped into a dive.

"Eridor!" She dragged out his name, letting it rush through her with every step that pounded against the earth.

He raced towards her, locking out his wings and skidding to a stop before he dropped before her, shaking the earth as he met it.

She tumbled against him, sinking into his not-fully-there scales. But it didn't matter. His wings were around her, protecting her for the first time in years. She was safe.

Murtagh stared past her at the large, brilliantly shadowed emerald dragon. She was nearly hysterical. He could sense her frenzied thoughts as she sprinted away. Yet he only was able to stare helplessly. This could not be happening. What was happening?

Pain ripped through his mind, but not as vicious as before. He was still gazing at her back, wishing he could see her face as she fell out of view behind the large, ethereal wings. His heart ached, and for the first time in many years he felt his mind start to detach from everything holding it.

Eragon raced out of Uru'Baen, gaping as he turned slowly in a circle. There were so many people. Half of them weren't even alive as they sparred and cut through the Empire's soldiers. Some looked familiar; they must be Riders or elves long-dead that Oromis had spoken of. Just thinking of him brought his face to his mind, with his eyes kind as he either instructed or scolded Eragon. His eyes were so unique, and Eragon was staring right at them.

He jumped backwards, blinking. The elf stood before him, tall and proud, Naegling drawn. "Eragon."

"Master." He shakily touched two his first two fingers to his lips.

Oromis tilted his head upwards and closed his eyes, a happy smile spreading across his face. Eragon looked up also and saw Saphira circling. Glaedr's Eldunari was secured in her armor.

"Master."

Oromis didn't move.

"Is _everyone _alive?" His voice trembled.

The elf opened one eye, smiled even wider, and closed it again.

Eragon turned around, staring at the half-formed shapes all around him and on the grasslands behind the city. It couldn't be true. Perhaps he would finally get to meet her... but no, he had to concentrate. Galbatorix had let him go, why? These people were alive, but there was only one dragon... he recognized the creature from her description. Raylena's. So why would the king not kill him on the spot?

Unless... perhaps the tie Galbatorix had formed to the Eldunari had been broken. The power of the dragons combined with the elves, Raylena, and himself would be insurmountable. He was vulnerable, and he was hiding. Why, oh _why_ had Eragon not struck him down when he had the chance?

"Because you still are as impulsive as you ever were," a voice growled from behind him.

Eragon froze. That voice... he knew. Unbidden tears briefly clouded his vision as he slowly turned around. Brom stood before him, arms crossed, and smirking just like he always had. Yet there was another look in his eyes... Brom, uncertain? Eragon stared at him, not believing his eyes. His father was back from the dead.

"Not for good, mind you... I don't know for how long. But we must use the gifts we are given."

Eragon swallowed, the tears threatening to spill. "Brom?"

"That is '_father'_ to you, my boy. I'll have my due respect."

"Brom," Eragon choked out before he threw himself into the older man's arms. It only took a minute before he realized that the storyteller was crying as well.

They stood in silence, tears saying everything that needed to be said before Brom pulled away, clearing his throat. "Child, there's someone you need to meet."

She looked just like the fairth.

* * *

**Sooo yeah. We'll forget this. I wanted to leave it out and time skip, but eh. Whatever. I really don't care that much.**


	37. Chapter Thirty Seven

Raylena's tears had finally subsided as everything was shared and taken away by her dragon. _Eridor._ They had wept together at one point, his tears hot and steaming and nearly burning her skin from where they dropped several feet away. How she had ever lived without him she would never know.

_Dear heart._ The warning echoed through her mind. Sunlight poured fully into her face as his wings parted. She turned around, crossing her arms tightly over her stomach as she met Murtagh's eyes. Thorn had landed at a distance, his nose brushing the ground as he awkwardly balanced on his three legs, months not helping the situation.

Murtagh gazed up at Eridor as he continued to wander forward, in awe of the beautiful dragon. "So this is him. Eridor?"

He growled, showing his teeth.

Murtagh halted and held up his arms, silently pleading.

Raylena shivered, pressing herself as far into Eridor as she could. "What is it?"

His brown eyes met her own. They were clear. So much brighter than they ever had been. "Raylena... I don't hear them anymore. None of them."

"Eragon freed them. You now only have your own heart."

"No, you don't understand. Not one of them." His eyes were wide, confused. For the first time in a long time he was alone. The cloud was gone, and any darkness that had lingered in the corners had been wiped away. Only Thorn remained. He felt detached, and light heated, as if he should faint.

Her jaw went slack. "Your name..."

"Eragon told me. He told me that my name could change. Raylena, it did." He looked almost frightened, and bewildered. Just like a child.

He had left her in Helgrind rotting. Eridor nuzzled her head with his nose, sending her a gentle reminder. No, he had never been allowed to come. Held away, imprisoned in his own mind, and against his will, just like her. The same as always. Murtagh was gazing at her, wishing for the forgiveness she had withheld, his eyes so warm as they used to be.

_You may wonder, dear heart, as to the reason his name had changed... I will not._

She glanced up at him before he lowered his head, shamed and waiting. Zar'roc was discarded; she was armed. If it be death, then so it be. Thor told him he was willing.

Murtagh was staring at the ground, his eyes shut, apologizing to his dragon over and over. He didn't notice her until after she had hooked her arms around his neck, standing on her toes in order to reach.

Eridor snorted as he watched the pair standing silently in the other's arms. He finally turned his gaze to the large red dragon beyond them. Thorn met his gaze boldly. They never spoke, but there was born an understanding. Thorn nodded his head, and the phantom dragon returned the gesture. He would watch over her.

Saphira had landed and gladly relinquished care of the Eldunari she carried to the elf waiting below. Oromis wrapped his hands around it and pressed his forehead down, a single tear tracking down his cheek. It was silent and calm. The Empire's soldiers were being soundly defeated. The rebellion's soldiers combined with the reborn Riders and warriors were deadly, and a fearsome thing to behold.

She settled down, watching Eragon interact with his parents. Brom noticed her stare, turned, and smiled. She flashed a toothy grin like only a dragon has, eliciting a chuckle before the man returned his attention to his son. She lifted her head as iLyara walked up. The smaller dragon looked somewhat rejected, the cause being obvious. Her nose was nearly dragging on the ground. Saphira nudged her. _Do not fret, little one. She will need you again when they are gone._

_But the way she loves him-_

_Is different. You must understand this._

_I do... I just sometimes wish I could be so privileged._

Saphira rubbed her wing against the smaller dragon. _Speak with him. He already knows what you have done for her. Perhaps he can tell you ways to help her more.  
_

Raylena breathed deeply, her face burrowed into his shoulder. Murtagh rocked her back and forth ever so gently, murmuring nonsense into her ear, holding her tightly. They stood in silence for a long while until voices called to them from afar. The closeness was gone; distraction evident. The Riders dashed to their dragons, needing to know for sure.

Murtagh once again felt tears threatening. Their dragons made quick work of the short distance to the castle, and before he knew it he was stumbling off Thorn, and into his mother's arms. He buried his face in her hair.

Raylena slid off Eridor, shame crushing the joy she felt as she gazed at the being watching her. After all the years, Oromis stood before her, tall and proud, peaceful as she could never be, balanced as she had remembered. She stepped forward slowly and knelt, touching her fingers to her lips, the keen weight on her heart simply forcing her to the ground. "Ebrithil, forgiv-"

She was cut off. The elf had dropped to the earth and drawn her into an ethereal embrace. She stiffened in his arms, eyes squeezed shut. No. No. No. He should be angry...

"My daughter."

They wept together.

After a time everyone's tears were spent, and once again they had to focus on the task at hand. There was a brief discussion as to where Galbatorix might be hiding. They welded their minds into a tool, though try as they might, they could not locate his position.

Raylena crossed her arms tightly over her stomach as they discussed the king. Oromis laid a hand on her elbow, calming her thoughts, whispering the newly familiar words, though she pushed away from them. Nobody knew what to do. He was everywhere to her; she had been right about the Rock but now she was useless. She shivered as she stared up at the palace. It had been such a long time since she had last stood at its base.

Eragon finally raised his hands. "We can try to speak to Shruiken."

Brom frowned. "Whatever gave you a fool idea like that?"

"I already have. I don't believe he shares the evil nature that has permeated Galbatorix."

Murtagh shook his head. "I have never known anything that could support that."

"But has there been anything to discredit it?"

Silence fell. There was a question. Who would risk their mind? Raylena shook her head, needing several calming words from Oromis. Murtagh also declined.

_Done._

Everyone turned in surpise to face the red dragon. His eyes were closed, though his tail twitched occasionally.

It seemed as if everyone had stopped breathing. Not a single sound was heard apart from the whisk the scales on the dragon's tail made as it tracked across the dirt. Agonizing waiting.

And then, the way was shown.


	38. Chapter Thirty Eight

**This is the last bit of the piece I had to force out, so hopefully it'll get better from here. Well, it does. The ending is so worth it.**

* * *

Even though she resisted, Oromis still pulled Raylena into Uru'baen with the rest of them, speaking in low tones to her. She answered, but their conversation was lost to everyone else. Finally she straightened, still wary, but in a steady enough state of mind to continue. Selena had stayed outside with the dragons, unwilling to reenter the palace and feeling weaker by the minute, seeing as how she had died ill.

Murtagh tried to watch Eragon's feet, the sight of the familiar halls now making him sick. He shuddered, bumping into Brom as he side-stepped widely around a room, remembering her screams from years past. The screams his hands had caused.

Raylena's eyes widened as she recognized the place. Her hands began to tremble, but she managed to keep from having another breakdown. Everything, except Eridor's comforting mental embrace was lost to her as she gazed around, taking in the blackened stone and memories. It was burned into her mind again, just like before.

_I am here, dear heart._

She nodded, and even though he couldn't see the gesture she knew he understood.

Down and down they traveled, down into the dark. Eragon led the way, Brisingr alight with its flame. Brom strode next to him, and Murtagh hovered close behind. Oromis and Raylena walked behind them, her arm linked through his, the familiarity a balm.

Three living, two dead walking. The strength, though some was fading, would be a strong combination against one man removed from his source of energy.

_Eragon, do not underestimate him... not even now._

Eragon flinched. At Brom's questioning look, he relayed Shruiken's message mentally, making sure to keep Raylena's mind separated from the group. No doubt the dragon was filled with ages of power from just sitting around. If Galbatorix could bend his mind then he could very likely tap into the dragon's strength.

A minute later, Brom drew his sword. Murtagh followed suit. Naegling was already in Oromis's hand. Raylena's hands were trembling too badly to grip anything.

_Dear heart, draw you sword._

She swallowed, then obeyed, the blade shivering in the darkness as she tried to steady herself.

Eragon wondered if everyone could hear his heart pounding. They had reached the bottom of the stairs and were now creeping along a dark passageway. The air stank horribly; the smell reminded him of the Ra'zac's nest. He could sense Raylena's nervousness... she recognized it as well.

He shook his head, knowing if he dwelt on her for too long he would lose his concentration. That wasn't what he needed to do. Oromis would take care of her. He knew what it was like to live in the shadows.

A creak filtered through the damp air. Beside him, Brom tensed. Eragon exchanged a glance with his father and prepared his mind, reaching out to Saphira for comfort. She enveloped him in a cloak of love, though her desperation at not being able to accompany him was still very clear. She knew he was safe with so many skilled magician's, but it didn't cease her worrying.

He smiled bravely as they came to a halt in front of an old wooden door. Brom tentatively reached out and hovered his hand an inch away from the wood. He muttered to himself, then motioned for everyone to stand back. "Raylena, dear... we're going to need one of your excellent shields."

She stared blankly at him for several heartbeats before nodding slowly and whispering a spell. The small, shimmering shield that appeared in her cupped hands grew little by little, enclosing a small amount a space as possible. Once they were all standing close together and protected, Brom spoke a few more words.

It was as if the gateway had been laced with ever possible means of preventing anyone passage. Some of the instruments were caked with dry blood. Raylena and Murtagh huddled together, wincing at the all-too-familiar sights as they clattered against her shield. But her need to survive as she always had held the magic together, impenetrable. Yet each blow made her body jerk and her eyes dart nervously. Oromis patted her on the shoulder, and before long it was over.

And then it was time.

The large dragon stayed in the shadows, his eyes closed and heart failing. He had long since resisted any attempts to remove his heart of hearts, and for that he was grateful. He could sense it. The shame would soon be stripped, and he would be free. Free. If only he could soar off into the sky. He only had ever flown once, and that was so many years ago, when he was but a hatchling. Now he would never get the chance. It pained him, but at the same time he was thankful. Soon. Soon it would be over. He had a little strength left, and he would know when it was needed.

Raylena had fainted. Murtagh sat behind the magical wall, cradling her and trembling himself, fighting to keep from having a panic attack. It didn't take any thought to leave them behind. They wouldn't be of any use in their states.

Brom and Eragon walked shoulder to shoulder, Oromis striding behind them. At the far end of the room, Galbatorix stood with his back to them, dark and still. The presence in the room was stifling. Eragon's eyes darted around, widening as the glittering stones reflected un-found light. The Eldunari hummed in chorus.

"He is under a spell," Oromis murmured. "Glaedr is communicating with some of them."

"Can he move?"

"Only his tongue, which is still as poisonous as ever."

"Poison can be a tonic, depending on your perspective." The deep, sultry voice sent a chill down Eragon's spine.

Everything seemed to fade from around him as Oromis and Brom spoke with Galbatorix. He glanced around him, wondering where they had gone. Their voices were faintly echoing in his ears. He turned back and gasped.

In front of him stood Raylena, beautifully dressed and made up. Hair cascaded down her back and over her shoulders, curled and glistening. The gown she wore was pure white, silk and shining, hugging every voluptuous curve. Her smile was enticing as she held out a hand, her grey eyes sweetly calling to him. In the hand that dangled at her side she grasped a crown made for a king.

He shivered, his mind protesting while his heart quickened. Saphira was calling to him, but her words were thrown aside.

_Eragon... What do you really want?_ The voice echoed, still as perfect and smooth as it had been before.

Another chill crept through him, latching on and sending him into convulsions. His back. His back twinged. Thoughts filled with terror flashed through his mind as the pain began to build. No. He knew it. It couldn't be. It had been fixed.

Raylena's head tilted, eyes sad and pooling with tears. _"Please don't go. I need you. I can make you better."_

Eragon clapped his hands to his ears and focused on the poem he had written for that night so long ago, chanting it under his breath and paying attention to the rhythm. This couldn't be happening. He risked another glance at Raylena- no, the vision. Her eyes were now dry, the blank stare begging to be read, the question in her needing an answer.

He shook his head and forced his eyes to close so he couldn't see her. It wasn't really her, anyway. She was unconscious. He had to be as well. Perhaps he had tripped and hit his head on the stone floor. He wasn't normally clumsy, but there was a first time for everything in life. And it would happen to him on the day that he lived to smite down Galbatorix.

He cracked an eye open again and blinked. He was back. Brom was still standing next to him, gazing at him with a worried expression. Eragon stared back at him and motioned toward the fallen Rider. Brom nodded. He always understood.

Oromis was speaking to him. He didn't respond this time, and for that Eragon was glad. The vision had left him unnerved. He didn't want to experience something like that again anytime soon.

And then he moved. He turned. His eyes were black and cold, ripping through Eragon's mind with a wretched jolt. His lips were turned up slightly, completing the eerie, cliched look Eragon had never been able to imagine.

Oromis stepped forward and held up Naegling. "It is over."

"Yes, it is," another voice hissed.

They turned around. Murtagh's slumped form could be seen from where it was laying behind the doorway. Elva was standing, her body stiff as she held Raylena upright while pressing a knife to the woman's neck. Raylena was still, her mind not yet recovered. Her head lolled painfully to the side, though a flicker of emotion crossed her face.

Eragon breathed slowly, knowing anything could set the child off and held out his hands, hoping the woman would awaken. "Elva..."

Oromis went stiff beside him. _So this is she._

_Aye._

He could sense the anger rising in the elf. It surprised him, but it also frightened him. Elves were strange enough; passionate emotions made them positively awful to behold. Brom muttered something to his old teacher and laid a hand on Oromis's arm.

Eragon took a step forward, freezing again as the knife bit into Raylena's skin, drawing forth drops of blood. This time she visibly winced, stirring in her sleep _Wake up! _He shouted to her, careful to keep the thought private. "Elva, what are you doing?"

"He can help me," she whispered, her eyes glazed and wild.

Eragon shook his head. "No, Elva. The spell I used to reverse the effects was all that could be done."

"He is more powerful than you."

"But he is not that strong."

"You could not fathom it," she rasped, her eyes darting between the four men staring at her.

"The connection to his power has been broken, Elva. He is no more than a magician now, and human at that."

She began to tremble. "He will destroy you all!"

Murtagh was also beginning to awaken. The witch-child showed no sign of noticing, so Eragon forced himself to concentrate away from his half-brother. "Elva..."

It happened so quickly that the crazed child couldn't react. Murtagh leaped at her from behind, and Eragon murmured a word to send her mind to sleep. Once she was taken care of, Murtagh finally managed to gather Raylena in his arms and rouse her. She swayed, shaking her head and glancing around, startled. Only then was Oromis able to tear his attention away and back to the king.

Galbatorix had not moved. The dragons were still humming, and he was still smiling. Then another presence filled the room. One much bigger and brighter than all of the rest. A beautiful white dragon was seen in the minds of all standing before Galbatorix. He was then there in the room. He growled. And then he spoke.

Magic swirled through the room, mixing in from everything that came from the Eldunari. It whipped around and passed through the Riders, sweeping up from their feet. Eragon had not felt so alive since he and Arya had met the spirits while escaping from Helgrind.

Then it went dim. The magic converged on the man standing before them, black as the night. His mouth was open in a wordless cry, and all they could do was watch breathlessly. His mind was being torn apart. It was being shredded and flung about. Pieces floated through the room, memories of days long gone by. The hate; the passionate hate swept around them, jabbing at the good they fought for. Then the child, locked away in his memories. The innocent lad, eager and cradling the purple hatchling, the royal color fit for a king.

And then it was over.

_It is done._

The dragon closed his eyes and sighed, alone in the dark once more.


	39. Chapter Thirty Nine

Eragon shuddered, staring down at the deceased body of Galbatorix. After all this time... it was finished. He was no more. Dead. Never again to hurt another being. The Empire would be dissolved, and they would all be free. Free! What a joyous thing to think about. Now all they had to do was leave.

He turned around and blindly stepped to where the witch-child lay, but Brom placed a hand on his shoulder. "There is nothing more you can do for her." She was still, the silver mark dull, the life gone from her body.

The walk back into the light took longer than before. They were weary. Oromis and Brom were fading. Raylena was clinging to the remaining solid piece of the elf's arm, whispering with him, rushed and desperate to say all that needed to be said before they ran out of time. Eragon was doing the same with Brom. Murtagh wandered aimlessly behind them all. When they broke from the castle, he ran again into his mother's arms.

It wasn't for an extended amount of time that a flicker of thought caught Eragon's attention. He gasped, and then raced towards Saphira. _Saphira! We must fly!_

He stood amidst the broken glass. Saphira was cut in several places, but he could tend to her later. Instead, he glanced around, squinting. The light now shined into the room, dispersing the covering blackness. All that remained of the dark were the numerous, glittering scales that filled the majority of the massive area.

Eragon stepped softly toward the beast, his heart aching as he listened to the rasping, uneven breathing of a dying dragon. Shruiken hummed a note and managed to open one eye. _Little one._

He was gazing past Eragon, straight at Saphira. She stood silently, her head down.

_Little one, do not pity me. I have lived my life._

_Not in the right way._

_I served my purpose._ His eye closed slowly. _Do not let our race diminish, Saphira._

_I will not._ She slunk forward, sending fragments of glass skittering everywhere as she heedlessly marched through, ignoring the pain as the shards pierced her feet. She reached out and let her nose rest on the larger dragon's face. He hummed once more, the note fading with his final breath.

And then the black vanished from his scales, revealing the white and silver ones glistening beneath.

Brom was waiting for him when he returned. Waiting for the last final words before they parted. At least he managed to tell him everything he had wished to... and spoke to him as his father, and not simply the strange man from Carvahall.

Raylena gazed into the green eyes, tears shamelessly sliding down her face. He lifted his head and rubbed his nose in her hair, just like he always had done. She rushed forward and threw her arms around his neck, their minds intertwining for the last final moments. He asked one last thing of her. As he began to disperse, she smiled, tickling his nose, trying to laugh. "Oh, Eridor."

And then he was gone.

Arms wrapped around her, but she could barely feel them. "Dear heart." Oromis murmured a few more words before he too slipped back into oblivion.

Then all was silent. Raylena stood helplessly, unable to do anything but weep.

Saphira let her head rest on Eragon's shoulder. _Little one..._

A tear slid down his cheek as he gazed out across Alagaesia. The soldiers were celebrating; all had learned of the news. It was over. The battle was won. Alagaesia had released herself of the black tyrant. They were free.

Murtagh stood silently, his hand resting on Thorn's shoulders. His dragon said nothing, knowing words would be of no use. He merely felt with his Rider, taking as much of the pain as he could from his friend's mind. Eventually Murtagh straightened his shoulders and nodded. The sadness was still in his eyes, but the determination to live also burst through. After what he had survived, this too would be handled.

Thorn nodded his head, letting feelings of joy sweep from him to his Rider. Murtagh's smile widened, and he nodded back. They had survived. They were free.

A mental nudge. Murtagh turned to find iLyara staring at him. He frowned, wondering what she could want. Her tail flicked, and he followed the direction with his gaze, traveling to Raylena's back as she trembled.

_She will not speak to me._

_She hates me._

_No, Murtagh._

Another gentle prodding from Thorn emboldened him. With long strides, he was soon by her side. She reached for his hand.

A whirlwind followed the battle. There was chaos and celebration. People swarmed the city; those in favor of Galbatorix's reign were sought out and done away with by those who had lived in opression. The army tried to control everyone, but it was in vain. All they could do was avoid being swept away by the revelry and hope it would all end soon enough. There were plenty of things to be done, plenty of homes to rebuild and ties to form. They had time.

Raylena huddled in the doorway of a burned down house, making herself as small as possible to avoid being noticed. The camp was worse than the city by far. So far she had been able to remain inconspicuous, aside from several... _incidents._ Those had been most... _unpleasant._ Not for her, though. For her it was more... _annoying._ Yet she had taken care of herself as she always did. Now at least they had been leaving her alone.

She dropped her head, sighing. The blissful joy that permeated everyone and everything had missed her own spirit. She was happy, of course, but still saddened from the losses. Starting with Eridor... her vision blurred as tears formed. Murtagh. Oromis. The babies. All the others who had suffered. They had won the war, but at a dear cost. She knew that such sacrifices were necessary, but still...

Glass shattered, jerking her from her thoughts. Her sword was halfway unsheathed before she was able to relax and settle back into her original position. Just more drunks lining the streets with their leftovers. Nothing to worry about. But perhaps she should cloak herself with magic nevertheless. She couldn't remove herself fully; someone needed to be in a sane frame of mind to take care of any more trouble.

_Raylena!_

The shout shook her from her brooding. _Yes?_

_Where are you?_ Eragon's voice neared frantic. _We've been looking for you everywhere!_

_I'm so sorry,_ she drawled, slightly irritated. _I didn't know there was a check-in list._

_With everything that's going on... we wanted to make sure you were safe._

_We?_

He was flustered; she could feel it wash from his mind before he carefully guarded his emotions, not knowing she had already sensed them. _Well... Saphira and I. The others._

_Others?_

_Raylena, where are you?_

He was terse, now. She smiled, even though he couldn't see it. _In the city._

_Raylena..._

_Do you expect me to know?_ Her smile faded to a frown, and she made sure her displeasure flowed through their connection. _Eragon, I'm fine. If I need any help I can find my way out. Nothing can hurt me, anyway. I'll see you later._

_But-_

She pulled away, not caring to speak anymore. There would be wine and slapping of shoulders where they wanted her, anyone. She didn't want it. She'd rather sit and think. At least now she had the time for it.

* * *

**Whoop whoop. Simple is my style.**


	40. Chapter Fourty

**Aaaand it's somewhat better. Four more chapters to go. I'm strangely almost bothered by it ending. O.o  
**

* * *

Eragon could barely contain his frustration. She had brushed him aside so quickly, and rightly so. He had been too demanding with her... oh well. There would be time to apologize later. Right now there were too many dignitaries from Uru'baen to speak with or scold, hands to shake, and treaties to be signed. Not to mention there needed to be a vote for who was to be the next ruler of Alagaesia.

Saphira hummed in the back part of his mind, perfectly happy in her situation. She tried to feel sympathy for her Rider, she truly did, but at the moment she was too occupied with Murtagh's dragon. Thorn proved to be somewhat wise in his young age. Not so much as she, but close enough. He certainly had different ideas on some things. Too different, but with her leadership he would no doubt turn out to be a very good friend. Perhaps more?

Shaking his head, Eragon left her alone, somewhat amused. Might as well let her have her fun... she deserved a reward as much if not more than the rest of them. He still wished Raylena was here to speak with, though... Arya wouldn't for some reason, and the rest would most certainly bore him. Murtagh was no better company.

On that subject... where was Murtagh?

Murtagh had nearly broken out in a sweat by the time he had found Raylena. His hands were trembling, and he felt like a five year old caught sneaking an extra sweet. Never had he experienced such a range of emotions in such a short amount of time. It was horribly wonderful, especially since he hadn't been allowed to feel for so long. He wanted and needed to feel with her. And then the length of time it took to search her out... he was going to go mad. But here he was, and there she was, finally within his sights.

She sat with her back to him, though he still noticed her muscles tense as he approached silently from behind. "Lena, it's me."

"I know." She turned around, folding her arms and avoiding eye contact, but smiling. "An old habit."

A wave of shame passed over him. Yes, he knew exactly what she meant. Perhaps she would never be able to forgive him... he held back a sigh.

She was shaking her head. "I didn't mean it like that, Murtagh."

Still she kept her eyes lowered. As if she knew what he was thinking... she always had. He squared his shoulders. After everything he had faced, she would be the last to intimidate him.

Thorn started laughing at him. Murtagh frowned, then pushed the dragon's mind aside. He steadied himself and watched her. She still refused to meet his gaze.

_Won't you at least look at me? _He smiled, then gently tipped her chin up, determined to wait patiently.

It didn't take long before she cautiously lifted her gaze. She flinched when their eyes met, then pulled away slightly. He released her face, then traced a finger down the scar. The years had caused it to fade, the blood red color darkened to a tanned brown, nearly blending in with her skin tone. No doubt she had walked openly in the sun, maybe even to bring about this result. He knew she must hated it, but he thought it only enhanced her exotic beauty.

_Sweet of you._ She gave him a shy smile before wrapping her arms tightly over her stomach. _Though I highly doubt you came here just to tell me that. _

_You always could see through me._

_Mhm. The inside is rather disgusting, I assure you. It could use a good cleaning._

He laughed, then took her hands in his. "Perhaps. But since you are so perceptive, tell me what else you see."

Again she dropped her face, silent.

"Raylena..." he stepped closer, then continued forward as she backed up, refusing to release her hands. After a few more steps she was pressed up against the wall. "Lena, listen to me. I promised you some things years ago. Do you remember?"

She swallowed, closing her eyes to hide the tears. "I remember."

"What did I promise you?"

"That you would never leave me." Her voice cracked slightly when her back connected sharply with the wall, and she winced.

"And?" He forced himself to ignore her pain for the moment. She needed to concentrate. Think. Remember. _Please._

After a pause: "You would come for me."

"Then I didn't." He stepped closer to her. Too close.

Horrible man. She planted her hands on his shoulders and pushed as hard as the cramped space allowed, trying to create herself some room, prepared to use the Ancient Language if necessary. "No, you didn't."

"But I did. You told me that you hated me."

"I did," she groaned, abruptly covering her face with her hands. "Murtagh, leave me alone. I don't want to remember."

He gritted his teeth. It was not or never. She jumped when he slid his hands around her lower back and tucked her against him. "I promised I wouldn't leave you." She shook her head and tried to pull away. "I promised you then, and I promise you now. I can't bear losing you again."

He relaxed his hold on her, holding back a bitter laugh at her blank expression. "Lena, breathe." He shifted his hands to her face, hoping she would remember. But it seemed so long ago...

She did. Her eyes widened as she stared at him, a light sparking in her eyes before he kissed her.

Raylena froze. She remembered. Years ago. Yet the memory was washed away, replaced by the present joy. Her knees folded.

Murtagh gasped as she collapsed, dropping with her in order the keep her from hitting the ground and hurting herself. "Lena! Are you alright?"

She nodded and smiled crookedly, embarrassment flooding her face with color. "Sorry."

He rolled his eyes, then brushed his knuckles down her cheek. "Stand up."

"What?" She frowned.

"Stand up," he grinned, lifting his face as she obeyed. Once she was on her feet, he cleared his throat, then held out his hand for her. "Raylena..." He watched in satisfaction as her face changed color again. He'd had an entire speech prepared, complete with loving witticisms... but the moment demanded otherwise. "I love you. Always have, I imagine. Will you marry me?"

Luckily he anticipated her reaction, and once again she was cradled in his arms. This time, however; she was crying as she hugged his neck, nodding furiously.

He laughed, feeling the burn of tears in his own eyes, all the worry for naught. "Is that a yes?"

"Of course, sap skull," she sniffed, pressing her face into his shoulder. "You wouldn't have dared asked if you weren't sure."

He hugged her tightly. _Finally._ She was his.


	41. Chapter Fourty One

**Aaaaand breezing through this part...**

* * *

Eragon managed to hold himself steady throughout the celebration. The Empire had been destroyed, its king dead, and now there was a wedding on top of it all. Orrin would lead the ceremony; it was to be held in the recently vanquished Uru'Baen, with everyone who wanted to come invited. A joyous occasion fit to follow their victory. Even Roran had been happy, though it had also pained him as he had thought of his own marriage.

Still, it was too much for Eragon. First Arya, and now Raylena... it seemed his bad luck with women would never leave. Angela's prophecy had come true; there was nothing about a long-standing relationship, especially one that might survive for centuries. He was doomed to be without a mate.

Saphira expressed sympathy. _I am truly sorry, Eragon._

_But you're happy for her._

_I can't help it. After all she's been through..._

_I know... I know..._

Saphira's thoughts twisted away, back to her current obsession. Eragon had to smile as he read her mind, before he drew himself away. She was busy; he could think... and mourn, in his selfish way.

Nasuada entered the room that had been prepared for her, glad to have an excuse to leave the party. The time she had spent with Murtagh at Farthen Dur was now only a memory. Any hope she had held for him was long gone. She supposed it had only been her wish; the daring, dashing young man she had held high in her esteem who had flirted openly was no more. He must have forgotten of her the moment he set eyes on Raylena. A poor, lonely, tortured girl who needed someone, same as himself. It was fail proof; how could it not happen?

She had hoped, though... Oh! she had hoped. He had seemed so perfect. His wit, and level head. He could command and hold attention, lead even. As she could.

Still... they were too different. He had changed since then... she probably had as well. What might have worked was lost. There was nothing to mourn about. And yet... she did.

Murtagh gazed as his wife-to-be. She was speaking with some people from Carvahall. The tears in her eyes led him to believe they were telling her of Brom. She had briefly mentioned that she'd known him once; he was no doubt a role model figure. Brave and daring... they would have been the best of friends, right from the start. Even if it were a mentor and student relationship.

She sensed his eyes upon her and turned to face him, flashing a smile through her grief. He returned it, then held up a finger. All he had to do was rid himself of the men who were recounting the tales they had heard of him. It was decidedly awkward. They tried to make light of it and treat him as one of their own, but it was difficult for all. They were there for Eragon's sake; he was the Dragon Riders half brother. He was able to smile and nod; thankfully they eventually chuckled their last and strode off for more drinks, a slight hurry to their steps.

He was next to her in a heartbeat, tucking her against his side. She laced her fingers into his and nodded as Horst finished a story. The tears still stained her eyes, but beneath them there was a peace he had not ever seen.

_Better now?_

She tilted her head up and smiled. _Much._

_That's all I seek._

When they refocused their attention to the people around them, they were met with knowing looks.

Elain tugged on her husband's arm. "Come, dear." The other women of Carvahall murmured, echoing her sentiments with varied excuses and tugging on their man's arms.

Murtagh spun her to face him. "Are you enjoying yourself?"

"Oh, yes... it's gotten a bit crowded at times, but I've managed." She stepped forward for a hug, secure in his embrace. Her mind brushed his, pleasure overflowing to his own.

Thankfully, not soon after everyone started dispersing. iLyara laughed the way only a dragon could from the corner she had occupied once everyone was gone, no doubt from her bidding.

_You're welcome._

The wedding was held in a week. When asked why it was scheduled so soon, Raylena would laugh and make a comment about already having to wait. Only a few knew what she was speaking about, but the point was made clear. No one could blame them, either, though some still were wary about Murtagh. Time would help.

Eragon kept his back perfectly straight, and his face set in a smile. Orrin was conducting the ceremony. So far it had been wonderful; everything he himself had ever dreamed of. But here he was, standing by and watching instead of being the one to take her hand and make her a life-long promise. One that would last for ages, with both of them being Riders.

Her face was glowing. The dress she wore was breathtaking. All of the tucks and turns had turned her into a goddess. The pure white was off-set by emerald green stitching and wavy pieces of fabric. A tribute to her dragon. Delicate red flowers were woven into her hair. A tribute to his.

Orrin was speaking again; the atmosphere was thick with anticipation. Murtagh responded, as did Raylena. A few more moment passed, and then Orrin smiled. Everyone started cheering.

Eragon dropped his gaze as Murtagh swept his wife into his arms, kissing her most thoroughly. The shouts grew louder, more bawdy, and iLyara roared. It was done. She was lost to him forever.

The feast was magnificent, but she was better.

Murtagh could barely keep his eyes from her face. Every time she moved his heart skipped a beat. He was behaving like a besotted fool, but he couldn't help it; nor did he want to. The only few times he turned his attention from her was when someone spoke to him. Thankfully, everyone was too amused with his behavior to bother saying anything in length.

Time slipped by. The dragons were doing something; he really didn't know what, only that Thorn was content. After all of it, content. So was he, though in a much different way. He smiled to himself as she began to laugh at something Angela had said. It had already been several hours; hadn't they been there long enough?

Her face remained unchanged when he whispered into her mind, though she sent a flicker of a thought back in affirmation. His heart began to race again.


	42. Chapter Fourty Two

**So these next two are ridiculously short. Did I mention that the whole purpose of me writing this was to a) kill Katrina, b) not make Arya even more perfect, c) keep the dragon alone as no one could possibly be worthy, least of all Miss Sue, and d)...well, for the last chapter, which I'll put up tomorrow. But d) was the main reason I wrote it. O:) By far my worst work in a long time, but meh. I don't particularly care that much.**

* * *

Murtagh sat with his back to Thorn's stump, Raylena nestled under his chin. It had been several months since their wedding. Everything had been perfect, at least until now. No, no... it wasn't so bad. He had to keep reminding himself that. He would only be gone for a few months; they had been apart for so long it would seem like mere days. Of course. It had to be done anyway.

There were new dragon eggs to hatch. Vroengard had to be prepared for the next generation of Riders, and who better to do that than two of the three remaining Riders? Raylena had refused the request to go along and help. Some things were better left tucked away in her mind. Murtagh had agreed with her decision, though it still pained him to think they would have to be separated. But no, not for long. Just a few months. Then he would be back. For good this time... he wouldn't ever have to leave her again.

Oh, no. Her thought patterns were starting to rub off on him.

_That's a bad thing?_

They shared a quiet laugh, once again settling into a companionable silence. At least her thoughts weren't crazed. Chaotic, but not crazed. Her mind skipped subjects, as did her tongue during conversations, but he had learned to follow along. Not quite right, but definitely a step closer to her normal insanity, as she assured him daily. He didn't like it one bit, but there was nothing he could do. Besides, he liked her vulnerability to teasing.

The only thing that worried him were her nightmares. She still had bad dreams fairly often; what would she do?

_As I always did._

He wasn't convinced of her confidence, and something in him told him that she wasn't either. Her management of things sometimes proved... disastrous. She would have to handle it, though. Somehow she would. If anything he could ask Solembum to keep an eye on her. Angela had disappeared somewhere into the city and had set up a shop. The werecat still enjoyed sneaking around and scaring everyone in Uru'Baen.

No, Aiedail. He smiled as he thought of it. It had been Nasuada's idea to rename the city after The Morning Star... a new day for them all.

Murtagh rubbed his face in her hair, returning to the subject at hand. "Are you sure you'll be alright?"

"If not then I'll have Angela brew something that will put me in a state of slumber until you return."

He laughed again and hugged her closer, cherishing the moment.

Raylena smiled cheerfully as Eragon and Murtagh said their final farewells. She wrapped her arms tightly around his waist, letting her smile fade as she dropped her head down to his shoulder. She was definitely going to miss him.

_And I you._ He pushed her back so he could kiss her a final time. _Scry me whenever you need, please._

_Of course I will._

Eragon cleared his throat, and they reluctantly parted. Murtagh winked, then with a few steps and a jump was on top of his dragon. He waved as they took off and aimed north west.

Raylena waved back, grinning, even though tears filled her eyes. Nasuada stepped up next to her and patted her shoulder, murmuring some condolences before she slipped away. The small crowd also dispersed, leaving her to her thoughts. Her spinning thoughts. It would take a while to calm down this time.


	43. Chapter Fourty Three

Raylena stood tall and still, holding the precious bundle in her arms. Her husband was due to arrive back in Aiedail at any moment. She had missed him terribly for the first few months, but then the joy from knowing what had happened turned her thoughts in another direction. She chose to avoid using magic to prepare; the work had given her something to learn and to do with her hands and mind as she had waited.

But now the waiting was over... he was coming. She could sense it. She could sense his excitement as they neared the palace.

Murtagh's heart was racing. After almost a year of being away, the desire to see her was overwhelming. He had been frustrated, especially in the last few weeks. One thing had led to another, and it had been evident Eragon could not handle renovations alone, even with all his might. There were elves on the island now, using their magical influences to finish shaping and rearranging the city. They were happy, so he had been free to leave.

Scrying had helped pass the time, but it wasn't the same. He needed to see her physically and hold her.

Thorn's chuckle drifted into his mind. He slapped the dragon's shoulder, laughing along with him. _Sorry. I can't help it._

_We're nearly there._

The last few minutes were the hardest. As the city grew on the horizon, he could sense her mind. Unfortunately, she had a steel trap around it. No matter. He had wanted to surprise her anyway. Finally he would be able to. _Hurry!_

Eragon's heart lowered further with every downbeat of Saphira's wings. Living around Murtagh had been worse than seeing the two of them together. He had wished their task would be over quickly, but now he wished they were traveling in the opposite direction. He'd thought a year would be enough to cure his aching heart, but he had been wrong.

Empathy from Saphira filled and surrounded his being, comforting in a way that only she could. He smiled ruefully and patted her back. _I'm sorry. I know I've been a bore._

__He sighed. The only reason he had come back was to find the next new Rider. The elves would no doubt have everything in order, such was their enthusiasm, and it was now time to start rebuilding the race of Riders. If only they could keep history from repeating herself, all would be well.

Murtagh couldn't wait. There were soldiers waiting for them, along with their old companions. All of them, it seemed, excepting the most importatng one of all. He barely noticed them. As soon as Thorn's feet touched the ground he jumped off, and after a hurried bow to the king he slipped away. Eragon could handle the niceties. Even if he wasn't waiting to see Raylena, he still would have escaped. They made him uncomfortable.

He took the steps two at a time. He could sense her position, right where she should be. A stray thought wondered as to why her mind was still shielded from his, but then he was there.

Her back was to him. He frowned briefly, but it changed to a smile when she looked over her shoulder, her eyes lighting up.

"Murtagh!"

He stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her tight to his chest. Oh, how he had missed her. Yet she didn't turn to face him as she normally did. He leaned over her shoulder to look at her face, concerned, but something else caught his eye.

He felt all the color drain from his face as he met the tiny brown eyes. The moment he did, another tendril of thought slipped into his mind. Recognition. The world suddenly tipped and blurred.

"Sit down, Murtagh," Raylena laughed as she twisted from his arms and pushed him down onto the bed.

He stared blankly up at her, his gaze shifting between her sparkling eyes and the penetrating stare from the baby, struggling to maintain his grasp on reality. "But... how? I... you never said..."

"Surprise," she whispered, bending down to kiss him.

He almost stood up before he felt the warm bundle pressed to his stomach. He looked down quickly and instinctively cradled the tiny body in his arms, shaking his head when Raylena started to draw her hands away.

The little face was perfect. Her beautiful brown eyes stared deep into his. She knew him. Raylena must have made sure to acquaint the child with her father before she met him. Even if she hadn't, he still would have fallen in love.

For that he had... everything in him was instantly captured by the child he held. _His_ child.

Raylena sat down next to him and rested her chin on his shoulder, smiling at him when he turned to face her.

Eragon reeled back, his head spinning. _No..._ This was it. The final blow. It was going to be hard enough to see them together again, but this? This made everything worse. He would never be able to avoid it now. Not unless he left, permanently. Vroengard. He had to go back, and escape. He backed up, then spun around and sprinted away, desperate to find solace. Nothing could be-

His foot connected with something in his blind race. He pitched forward, but the fog surrounding his mind left him unable to do anything. His head cracked against something; the wall? Saphira cried out in his mind at the sudden strike of pain. He thought he heard someone shouting... and a baby crying...

* * *

**Aaaaaand that's it! Except for the ending, which I'll post tomorrow. It's melancholic in a way. Quite bittersweet.**

**Eh, who am I kidding? IT'S OVER. FINISHED. COMPLETED. Five years in the works, and I'm done. Screw everything, this is fantastic.  
**


	44. Chapter Fourty Four

_Two people, one tall in height and the other in character, stepped lightly on the funeral barge. Raylena slipped her hand into Murtagh's, holding it tightly. He drew her to his side as they turned. They gazed over the land of Alagaesia, knowing it could be many years before they returned. King Orrin and his queen, Nasuada, stood on the beach with several members of their court, along with other royalties. Other people that considered themselves friends of the Riders were also there to see them off._

_Raylena met Angela's eyes and managed a smile. The cheery magician winked at her. Solembum flicked his tail. Of them all, the dear witch and her cat would be most missed. Queen Islanzadi had also made an appearance. While she and Raylena had never quite gotten along, the queen had known it was her duty. Arya was also there, her face blank. Mother and daughter would be forgotten, and quickly, too. She held no care for them.  
_

_Thorn and iLyara circled overhead. The dragons were both mournful over the loss of their companion, but were confident that the eggs already gifted would be enough for a new race of dragons. There had to be some solace found, or they would be overcome with grief. They couldn't let themselves go like that._

_Several more smiles were given as the boat drifted off towards Vroengard. It was loaded with elvish weapons and tools used for training the new generation of Riders. There were also seeds and other gifts necessary to keep the city from falling completely under elvish influence. It would take some work, but the two were confident that that the elves could be reasoned with and would have to grudgingly admit that some of the human Riders would need a normal dwelling as they aged.  
_

_Her eyes lit up, even through her nervousness, as she first glimpsed the island through the sea's mist. She couldn't help a smile. The old had gone, and the new had come. What was there not to be joyful about? She could mourn, but she also had to move on.  
_

_Murtagh and Raylena walked hand-in-hand through Doru Araeba, their child strapped to her back. Murtagh and Eragon had begun renovating the parts of it that would be in use for the humans, the elves leaving that to their judgment, but there was still plenty left to be done. As they picked their way through the rubble, Thorn took iLyara to a hidden place. Raylena listened to her friend's joy as she transmitted pictures of the small cache of eggs. The Empire was truly gone. Now all that was left of it was the burial of one man._

_Then there was another man, one left on the sand, long after they had disappeared from view. He was on his knees, sobbing. Everything had been taken from him. His father, his wife, his child, and his brother. He had nothing left to live for, nothing but the ability to weep told him he was yet living. Weeping and weeping, screaming..._

Eragon gasped and bolted upright. He heaved air and stared blankly at the canvas of his tent. How had he gotten here? His head ached. The wailing persisted.

_Saphira..._

_Eragon!_

The tent shook as she forced her head into the opening. He squinted as daylight filtered in. _Saphira, what _is_ that noise?_

_Elain had her baby. He's been sick, but Angela's taking care of him. Eragon, how are _you?

_My head feels like it was bashed against a rock._ He sat up slowly, muttering a curse and a spell to clear his head. _What happened? How'd I get from Aiedail to here?_

_Aiedail? What are you babbling on about?_

_Murtagh... and Raylena. I tripped and hit my head._

_Eragon... the last palace you have been in was at Feinster. In fact, we're still outside its gates. Don't you remember? Nasuada didn't want everyone overrunning the city to find a bed. You must have been dreaming._

Dreaming? It had all been a dream? Now his brain hurt. There was no one alive who was named Raylena. She didn't have a dragon egg. She wasn't married to Murtagh. Galbatorix was still alive. Everything was as it ever had been.

_You and Baldor were sparring. You took an amateur step and he bashed you over the head. He's quite sorry about it, I might add. Though it was stupid of you._

_Forget Baldor. Why didn't you wake me up?_

_I tried. The elves tried. We even asked Angela but she just laughed and shook her head. There was an impassable wall._

Eragon rubbed his head, then shook it to further clear it as he stood. A dream... it had only been a dream. Well, a nightmare. Still, none of it had actually happened.

Saphira chuckled as he scratched her nose, fleeting images slipping to her mind. _You'll have to tell me all about it. _

_Soon, please. I can barely wrap my head around it. I could have sworn I lived through it all. Nearly two years, Saphira! I-_

She lifted her head. _Wait a minute. Someone is here to see you. I'd forgotten about him; he's been waiting for you to awaken._

Eragon sighed and gave himself a shake. His appearance would have to do, unbecoming as it was. "Come in!"

One of the Nighthawks stood before him. The man saluted. "My Lord Argetlam! The Lady Nasuada has requested your presence. Someone has come; a person she once knew long ago whom she thought was dead. She carries something of great importance."

The world slowed. Everything was murky; lights danced before his eyes. The man was still speaking, reaching out for him. _No!_

One word. One word needed to be spoken.

"My Lord?" The man's eyes widened. Something was wrong. Perhaps he had hit his head harder than previously thought?

Eragon's eyes were crazed. The dragon was moving, yelling something without speaking. The young man before him whispered a word. To the man's horror, he then staggered backwards and collapsed, his chest heaving once more. The man knew right away.

The Rider was...

A roar split the doomed quiet.

...dead.

The End

* * *

**"So sue me, sue me; what can you do me?"**

**Heh, so ever since I had the notion that Eragon should die I've been positively impatient to get it out. Five years later, here it is! This story is now complete, save for a slightly altered ending which I'll get up tomorrow. But that's not important.  
**

**Thanks to all who read my somewhat unmasterpiece of a story. I had fun, I must grudgingly admit. Not my best work, but it will suffice for me. Anyway, happy readings!  
**


	45. Alternate Ending

**As the title suggests, this is a slightly modified ending. Thanks to all who read my would-be perfectional masterpiece and reviewed. ^_^ Oh, Eragon...  
**

* * *

Eragon gasped and bolted upright. He heaved air and stared blankly at the canvas of his tent. How had he gotten here? His head ached. The crying persisted.

_Saphira..._

_Eragon!_

The tent shook as she forced her head into the opening. He squinted as daylight filtered in. _Saphira, what _is_ that noise?_

_Elain had her baby. He's been sick, but Angela's taking care of him. Eragon, how are _you?

_My head feels like it was bashed against a rock._ He sat up slowly, muttering a curse and a spell to clear his head. _What happened? How'd I get from Aiedail to here?_

_Aiedail? What are you babbling on about?_

_Murtagh... and Raylena. I tripped and hit my head._

_Eragon... the last palace you have been in was at Feinster. In fact, we're still outside its gates. Don't you remember? Nasuada didn't want everyone overrunning the city to find a bed. You must have been dreaming._

Dreaming? It had all been a dream? Now his brain hurt. There was no one alive who was named Raylena. She didn't have a dragon egg. She wasn't married to Murtagh. Galbatorix was still alive. Everything was as it ever had been.

_You and Baldor were sparring. You took an amateur step and he bashed you over the head. He's quite sorry about it, I might add. Though it was stupid of you._

_Forget Baldor. Why didn't you wake me up?_

_I tried. The elves tried. We even asked Angela but she just laughed and shook her head. There was an impassable wall._

Eragon rubbed his head, then shook it to further clear it as he stood. A dream... it had only been a dream. Well, a nightmare. Still, none of it had actually happened.

Saphira chuckled as he scratched her nose, fleeting images slipping to her mind. _You'll have to tell me all about it. _

_Soon, please. I can barely wrap my head around it. I could have sworn I lived through it all. Years, Saphria! I-_

She lifted her head. _Wait a minute. Someone is here to see you. I'd forgotten about him; he's been waiting for you to awaken._

Eragon sighed and gave himself a shake. His appearance would have to do, unbecoming as it was. "Come in!"

One of the Nighthawks stood before him. The man saluted. "My Lord Argetlam! The Lady Nasuada has requested your presence. Someone has come; a person she once knew long ago whom she thought was dead. She carries something of great importance."

The world slowed. Everything was murky; lights danced before his eyes. His head detached from his body, spinning and floating away. The man was still speaking, reaching out for him. _No!_

He couldn't believe it. Wouldn't believe it. This could not be happening.

"My Lord?" The man's eyes widened. Something was wrong.

Eragon's eyes were dazed. The dragon was moving, yelling something without speaking. The young man before him gasped one more time. To the man's horror, he then staggered backwards and collapsed, his chest heaving before his body stilled.

The Rider had...

An enormous laugh, one that could only come from a dragon, rattled the tent.

...fainted.

The End


End file.
